


Crest of Responsibility

by SpaceQueenie



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Digital World, Found Family, Gen, Impmon also needs a hug, Kid Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Slow Burn, Tony Stark Has A Heart, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility, but with plot, is that a thing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceQueenie/pseuds/SpaceQueenie
Summary: At age ten, a monster fell out of Peter Parker's computer and became his best, first, and only, friend.At age eleven, Peter Parker fell through a computer into a completely different world and decided to do his best to help save it.At age twelve, Peter Parker missed the Chitauri Invasion of New York City because he was having lunch and deciphering an ancient prophecy with his friends in some old ruins in another dimension, or for him, a typically Tuesday afternoon.And finally, at age fourteen, Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider, roped into becoming a (Junior) Avenger, and kicked off an ancient prophecy that would affect the fate of both worlds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the MCU storyline, splitting off at roughly the end of Civil War, as well as the Digimon Adventure 01/02 storylines, where it splits roughly where Ken regains the Crest of Kindness. 
> 
> The endnotes of each chapter will be a list of Digimon within the chapter and a brief description, a glossary of any new terms, and a solid invitation to talk about both the MCU (Minus Far From Home) and/or Digimon.

The Parker household held one computer, located in the middle of their small apartment’s living room. It was an out-of-date tower with a processing speed that made the bricks at school look like a supercomputer, a crack across the right corner of the monitor surrounded by dead pixels, and speakers that crackled, popped, or cut out, depending on the noise, but it was one of the only things Peter’s parents left behind, and so even if they could afford to get a new one, he didn’t think he’d want it.

Every night, after dinner and any homework, if he had it, Peter was allowed to use the computer freely for two hours. The privilege was one he’d asked for, rather than one outright given, and once his Aunt and Uncle learned that he wasn’t doing anything other than playing the games he was shown by his teachers, re-watching videos of Iron-Man in action they’d seen him watch about a thousand times, or on occasion reading newly published science journals or checking out press releases from the most recent StarkExpo, they felt comfortable leaving him alone.

That’s where Peter sat tonight. His Aunt and Uncle one door down, trusting Peter to get off well before his time was up. And, of course, Peter fully intended to shut everything down and go to sleep. At least, he did, before the computer broke.

“What the…?” Peter muttered, leaning towards the screen with ever-widening eyes. The screen that just before held an article had flickered out and was replaced with lines of code he couldn’t recognize. Not that Peter had gotten into coding, it was somewhere on his list, but he was sure that mixing weird hieroglyphics in with different languages wasn’t exactly par for the course. Then, in the middle of the screen, something appeared. Oval, white, with a slight pattern to it.

“An egg?” Peter grumbled, pushing his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “Oh, great, some weird virus.” Just as Peter turned around in his chair to call for Uncle Ben, a light flashed from the screen and caused him to turn back around. To his surprise, the egg was no longer small and floating in the middle of the code, but it was forcing its way _out_ of the computer screen like it was some special effect in a 3D movie. With a loud yelp and an awkward fall backward that tipped over his chair, Peter ended up with a bump on his head and a weight on his chest that he was sure he didn’t want to look at.

“Peter? You okay?” Aunt May called from the other room.

“Y-yeah,” Peter called back, trying not to let his nervousness seep into his voice.

“I’m not hurt. Just tripped on my shoes and knocked over a chair.”

He could hear her eyes roll. “That’s why I tell you to put them up!”

Whatever she said next was lost on him as his eyes caught what was making the weight on his chest. It was the egg. The egg that was supposed to be some weird computer virus that shut down his computer, that would possibly make his Aunt and Uncle take away his computer time. The same one that made his computer go completely nuts. It was nowhere, in front of him, _sitting on him_. He looked up at the computer for confirmation and only saw the code fade into nothing as the computer shut itself off.

Slowly, Peter sat up, careful to maneuver the egg onto his lap. As he did so, something else fell off of his chest and onto the floor. He looked at it and picked it up. It was a small device, rounded off at the corners, but not quite circular, and blue. It had two buttons on one side, one on the other, an antenna sticking out of the top, and a blank screen in the middle. It reminded him a little of what doctors use instead of a cellphone. What was it called? A pager?

No time for that. Giant, mystical looking egg to deal with. Peter put the chair in its rightful place, did one last google search, nabbed all of the items from tonight’s ordeal, and then made his way to his room for the night.

Once there, he cleaned out a small space in the back of his closet, took down a shoebox off the top shelf that was filled with broken toys he’d promised himself he’d one day fix and dumped it, then re-filled it with the smallest blanket he had before placing the egg in. For once thankful that he got roped into watching the class’ pet lizard over the weekend enough that he had his own supplies, he pulled the heat-lamp into the closet, turned it onto a lower setting. For once, he went to sleep with the closet door cracked open, determined that if any monster was in there, he’d fight it off to save the defenseless egg.

Morning came too quickly for Peter’s liking, but that was mostly because he didn’t sleep at all during the night. Was the egg too cold? Did it even need heat? What if it needed to be in the water or something? He had no idea what to do, and it was bothering him. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, he should tell his Aunt and Uncle. But then some voice would yell, _No! They can’t know! Not yet!,_ and he’d be right back to worrying all alone.

This particular morning was a Saturday, and so his Aunt and Uncle were surprised to see Peter up so early. They were even more surprised when he asked to eat his breakfast in his room.

“If you promise not to make a mess,” Aunt May said, confusion evident in her voice. As soon as he ran off, plate of pancakes in his hand, she turned to Ben.

“He probably has a stack of library books he wants to finish. You know him,” Ben said with a smile.

While Peter did read in his room, it was not alone. Half-finished breakfast sitting next to him, Peter read aloud to the egg that now sat between his legs, comfortably wrapped in a blanket, and when his tired eyes slipped shut, he never noticed the cracks forming on its shell.

It was a few hours before he woke up, and by then the blanket had moved several feet, his breakfast was completely gone, and his pile of books had gone from a neat ‘Already Read’ and ‘To Be Read’ pile to a catastrophic mess all over his room. Briefly, he wished that none of them were ripped and that his Aunt had no need to enter the room before he could clean it up.

Only briefly, because at that moment he noticed the egg was missing.

It took about a minute of frantic searching before Peter saw no trace of the shell. So, it was still intact, right? At least, it was still intact when it left here and went wherever it went. That was one good thing.

In the midst of Peter’s attempts to stem his panic, a small, angry squeak came from somewhere near his bed. Whipping his head around fast enough to give him whiplash, Peter saw a very small, very purple puffball with large, pointed ears staring, no, _glaring_ , at him with nearly entirely black eyes from a cocoon of blankets that was once his well-made bed. Peter blinked once, then rubbed his eyes to try and get rid of the hallucination in front of him caused by sleep deprivation, before the puffball squeaked its angry squeak once more, demanding his full attention.

After removing his hands from his face, Peter slowly made his way over to his bed, careful to avoid the books on the floor for fear of causing further damage. This close, he was able to see that the creature’s eyes weren’t actually black, but a darker shade of purple, which was a little less unsettling. “Did this thing… come from the egg?” He said, mostly to himself.

The question, however, garnered what could almost be considered an eye-roll from the puffball, followed by a headbutt, which wasn’t soft in the slightest despite appearances.

“ _Ow_.” Peter hissed, almost lamely, rubbing the spot his forehead where the puffball connected. The puffball glared pointedly at him. “Got it, dumb question.” It continued to glare. “Why did you hit me?”

The puffball made a series of different noises, each one making it sound more and more like a dog’s chew toy.

“I really can’t understand you, sorry.” It glared at him once more, but with its small size and fluffy stature, all it succeeded in was looking cute. Peter let out a small laugh. “You’re not really scary like that, you know? But you do pack a mean punch.” The puffball deflated slightly, then seemed to _mumble_ something. Peter, finally understanding, pat its head and smiled. “Don’t worry, I forgive you.”

It took him a couple of hours to put his room back in working order, but he refused to touch the bed where his new companion sat. The creature, whatever it was, just looked too comfortable wrapped up among the comforter and quilts that he couldn’t even think about moving it. By the time he was finished, Peter looked over to see the purple eyes closed in sleep. Now that he had the opportunity, he made his way to the kitchen to make himself a late lunch. At the pantry, he paused, thinking of the puffball sleeping on his bed. What would he feed him? Regular old people food? Did he need a special diet? Was he allergic to chocolate?

For now, Peter settled on making an extra PB&J sandwich for the little guy, and threw some extra chips in too, before heading back into his room with the excuse that he had to finish the library books before the deadline on Monday (which wasn’t exactly a lie).

At the smell of food, the puffball shot out of his sleep. The sight made Peter snort, which only served to strengthen the glare on said puffball, but it wasn’t any sort of serious, angry glare. More of an ‘ _I can’t believe I let you see that and this is the only thing I can do about it’_ sort of glare. Peter could relate.

Once he set the plate down and picked up the sandwich he meant for the little guy, however, things went downhill. Instead of him eating the balanced meal that he’d intended to after skipping out on half of breakfast, which consisted of two PB&Js and a few baby carrots, he was left with half of a PB&J, the half that he’d intended to test feed to the puffball in order to see if he could even eat people food with.

Conclusion, yes, he could eat people food. He just ate all of Peter’s lunch. Dejectedly, because there’s nothing aside from trying to sneak around Aunt May for more food before dinner, and she would hate if he ‘ruined’ his dinner, Peter simply sat and ate his half a sandwich in peace as he watched the puffball vacuum up the remaining bits of food. At least it had the decency not to leave any crumbs.

“You know that was supposed to be my lunch too, right?” Peter asked when it was finally done. At least it _also_ had the decency to look a little put out at that, with its tall, pointed ears lowered to the back of its… head? Body? Both.

Peter sighed. He never liked confrontation. He liked hurting people’s feelings even worse. “It’s okay,” He assured the puffball, smiling. “You must’ve been really hungry, right? I mean, you just hatched or whatever. And, I don’t even know what you are, but you guys probably have to eat a lot of food, considering the size of that egg.”

For the first time, when the creature looked at Peter, its eyes were entirely soft. It hopped away from the plate of food and over towards a pile of books, and before Peter could get out the words, “Be careful, please!”, the little guy headbutted the pile softly, only shaking it slightly, and then looked expectantly at Peter. When he didn’t move, the creature did it once more, this time a little more forcefully.

“Do you want me to… read to you?” Peter asked. The puffball squeaked once. “What kind of story do you want to hear? An adventure story? Or maybe a fairy tale? I think I’ve got some non-fiction in here too, but that might be a little boring…”

That was how Peter spent the next few days, locked in his room with the little unidentifiable creature, sneaking in extra meals and reading his new friend to sleep. When Aunt May or Uncle Ben came to check up on him before bed, the purple puffball stiffened up, and he was able to pass him off as a stuffed animal one of his classmates had given to him as a gift for helping them out with schoolwork. When Monday came around and he absolutely had to leave in order to go to school, Peter made sure to hide snacks in his closet and to leave some of his old toys out. He also left his friend explicit instructions _not_ to come out of his room when he wasn’t there, despite the fact that no one was in the home. There was no telling when his Aunt might come back, seeing as her schedule was much more malleable than his Uncle’s. When school let out, he ran as fast as he could to the library, dropped off his books, picked up those on his pre-determined list, and ran back home.

“I’m home!” Peter called, just in case. When there was no answer, he ran to his room and threw open the door, stifling a laugh when his friend automatically stiffened up. “Relax, it’s just me,” He said as he walked inside and picked him up. “Nobody else is home, so I was thinking you can come and explore the apartment.”

Taking the excited squeak as a yes, Peter cradled the puffball in his arms and acted as a tour guide in his own home, lingering in the kitchen to make some food and finally in the living room to relax with his friend. As always, his appetite knew no bounds, and Peter drew the short end of the stick when it came to their shared plate, ending up with only a handful of chips and a celery stick when it finally came down to it.

“You didn’t even bother to let me dip them in the peanut butter first,” Peter said, trying not to laugh at the smears of food still stuck in his friend’s fur that made its confused face all the more entertaining. “Here, I’ll let you have a bit of this one so you can try it.”

He dipped his celery in the peanut butter he’d scooped onto the end of the plate, then broke it off of the whole piece just so he’d still be able to have _some_. Finally, he offered it out to the puffball in the way that was now so familiar it felt like he’d been doing it his whole life. Snatching the bit of celery from his hand, the frown that was almost always on its face turned to a more neutral expression, which Peter knew to be as close to a really, _really,_ big smile as possible for it.

“Glad you like it,” Peter said as his companion practically begged for more with just a look. “But you ate all the celery, so we’ll have to wait until Aunt May goes shopping again.”

And so Peter’s life went, with his not-so-parents of an Aunt and Uncle who were alright with Peter acting his age for once, with stuffed animals and imaginary friends, and his kind-of-monster of a friend, who fell from the computer with the device he threw in his bedside table and forgot about.

One night, not even a week after the creature who Peter still hadn’t taken the time to name had eaten all of the celery in the fridge, a shuffling noise woke Peter. His eyes met a clock rather than a furry mass, and he was able to see that it was very late, or very early, depending on your view of the world and time. Immediately his hand moved around his bed for the puffball, who had taken to sleeping on the pillow next to him and found nothing. He sat up slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust, and heard the shuffling noise again, followed by a slow, soft, high-pitched whimper. Although it wasn’t a sound he’d heard before, but he knew who it came from.

Hiding deep in his closet, shivering underneath a stolen quilt, sat the puffball. Its eyes were screwed tightly shut, its ears were nearly flat.

Peter was over by its side in seconds, wrapping himself in the quilt and pulling his friend into his lap. He ran the day through his head, trying to figure out what was different. Did something he fed the creature make it sick? Another whimper focused him on the here and now, and he stroked its head soothingly.

“Hey, hey,” Peter murmured. “You’re okay.” One eye opened slightly and Peter received the weakest headbutt the creature could give. He laughed softly at the display. “See? Nothing can bring you down.” Just as Peter moved his hand to continue petting the creature, hoping to help get it through whatever this was, his friend did something entirely unexpected.

His friend began to glow.

Not a soft, bioluminescent glow, like that of some algae or jellyfish, or even of some other kind of animals in defense mechanisms. It wasn’t in patterns, there was no hint of translucence, and of course, his friend had _fur_. Peter could have believed this was a natural sort of thing if it had been that kind of glow. This glow was that of just _light_ , bright and white and pure, emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once, encompassing his friend before Peter had any say in anything at all. Peter, blinded by the light, was forced to turn away, and only barely noticed that some of it seemed to come from his drawer as well.

When it finally went away and he could check on what exactly happened to the little puffball, the little puffball wasn’t there anymore. It was a similar situation with the egg, in fact. There was no evidence that he was ever there, no traces of his purple fur on Peter’s clothing or the quilt, only the mess left behind.

In his place sat a slightly bigger puffball, with purple fur on _most_ of his body. His eyes, rather than the dark purple Peter had grown used to, were now a light green, and the ears were longer, and drooped at the end, in a similar way to witch’s hats. His face, rather than being covered in fur, was covered in shorter, brown fuzz. Despite the new look, the scowling, angry-not-angry eyes and the frown on its face remained the same.

“Puffball…?” Peter asked tentatively, not sure if he was allowed to touch just yet.

“Do I havta headbutt you again?” The creature asked, rolling its eyes. “O’ course it’s me! And my name’s Yaamon now.”

Peter stared at his friend slack-jawed. Then, his filter shattered, questions poured out. “Y-you can talk? How can you talk? Why did you look like this? What was that light? Are you okay? You looked hurt earlier. _How can you talk?!”_

“I can talk because I’m Yaamon now!” Yaamon jumped up and down in Peter’s lap, clearly now over whatever was bothering him earlier. “You helped me ta digivolve, because you’re my partner.”

“D-digivolve…?”

Yaamon jumped off of Peter’s lap and hopped over to his bedside table, where the secondary glow had come from. Peter followed him and opened up the drawer. He picked up the small blue device, saw the screen flash ‘DIGIVOLUTION COMPLETE’ once, and then go back to its blank state.

“You got a Digivice, so that makes you my partner.”

“So this thing made you change?” Peter said, thinking about how hurt his friend looked only moments ago.

Yaamon shook his head. “All Digimon can digivolve. With all the food I ate, I was starting to digivolve, but you made it easy for me.” Suddenly, Yaamon was in his arms, letting out a small yawn. “Thanks, Petey.”

“Y-you’re welcome…?” Peter looked back at the time. He decided to handle all of… Whatever this was in the morning when he had at least double the brain capacity. “We should go back to sleep.”

No answer came, and Peter looked down to see Yaamon sleeping in his arms. He rolled his eyes but was silently thankful that this bigger version of his friend didn’t snore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Featured Digimon:**  
>  **Kiimon -**  
>  A Fresh level Digimon, and the Digimon that originally hatches from the egg. As a Fresh level, Kiimon can't attack, and isn't generally good for much other than eating until he evolves into the next level.  
>  **Yaamon -**  
>  Yaamon is an in-training Digimon. Yaamon has one attack, called 'Rolling Black', where it shoots a ball of darkness at its opponent. However strong this may seem against humans, this is weak against other Digimon, considering its level.
> 
> **The Digivice -**  
>  The small blue device that arrives with Kiimon allows the user to transfer their energy to their Digital Partner in order to allow easy and non-permanent digivolution. This energy is usually positive, emotional energy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly thought this would be too niche of a crossover for anyone at all to read, but I am happily surprised! There's gonna be a few more chapters before the real plot begins, so I'll be posting those quicker than I usually would.

It was at age ten, a few months shy of eleven, that Peter met Yaamon and joined the ranks of the Digidestined, children with Digimon partners who were meant to protect the Digital World, and in turn, the real world. However, since Yaamon was only an egg when he came to Peter and thus didn’t know anything about that part, neither did Peter.

The explanation that Yaamon had given Peter was pretty simple, and not much further than what he’d said last night, or what Peter could guess himself. Yaamon was a Digimon, short for Digital Monster. Peter could’ve guessed that, considering his egg had come from the computer, but he didn’t interrupt the little guy. Digimon come from someplace called the Digital World. Peter _really_ wanted to know if there was a way to get there but considering Yaamon was _less_ than a baby when he came here, he probably wouldn’t know. Since Yaamon came to him, and Peter got that blue thing, which he now knew was called a Digivice, then that makes them partners, and it allows Peter to help Yaamon digivolve in order to fight.

Several questions arose more questions arose. What kind of partners? _Why_ would they be made partners? Who would Yaamon need to _fight_ , exactly?

Yaamon didn’t know the answers to those questions, but the information he did know seemed to be strangely instinctual, and Peter felt it to be weirdly trustworthy. Despite that, he needed an outside opinion. Then came a new, even stranger problem. Whenever he thought of telling his Aunt or Uncle something in the back of his head that he felt a desperate need to listen to screamed at him not to, and he decided to listen to it. In fact, it happened when he thought of talking to _any_ adult, and it wasn’t like he had that many friends around his age.

Then one person came to mind, someone who would listen to anyone, without question, someone who loved to help. Peter practically sprinted around the house to get things ready, nearly squishing all of his things in the process of trying to get a large enough space to fit Yaamon in his bag, and was almost out the door before his Aunt asked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

Peter shuffled his feet. “I just wanted to go and see if I could help Mimi. She’s s’posed to be at the greenhouse today.”

His Aunt looked from him to his backpack, probably trying to judge whether or not Peter had brought his homework along to finish (he didn’t). “I want you back before five, and don’t-”

“Thank you I love you bye-bye!” Peter called as he slammed the door, cutting her off.

“Slam the door on your way out.” His Aunt finished, throwing her eyes upwards.

Mimi didn’t live in Queens. Mimi lived in a high-end apartment in Brooklyn, went shopping every other weekend with friends, and had a different outfit on every time Peter saw her, save for her signature pink cowboy hat that seemed to tie each one together. Mimi also donated all of the clothes she knew she wouldn’t wear again after each shopping trip, made sure her parents donated to multiple charities using the same puppy dog eyes that could get her a pony at the snap of her fingers, and, in her free time, worked around the city at several public gardens where people could plant fresh vegetables to use at home.

Before she started, the one in Peter’s neighborhood could barely be called a garden. It was a single, sad tomato plant that was watered by hand twice a month and got the rest of its water from roof runoff through a hole in the greenhouse roof. The greenhouse itself had cracks and holes throughout the building, to the point where she’d had to get it repaired by professionals before even planting anything.

Once, Mr. Delmar asked her why she was putting so much trouble into the old thing at all. There were much easier gardens around the city to start up.

Mimi didn’t even look away from the small saplings she’d been repotting before saying, “A long time ago, I learned that once you promise to do something, you need to get it done, no matter how easy or hard it might seem. Just promising to do it isn’t enough, and it doesn’t do anything but hurt anyone in the end.”

After that, no one questioned the greenhouse project.

They did, however, use the greenhouse. When the first plants bore fruit, strawberries, then everyone in the neighborhood came by and congratulated Mimi on a job well done, gave her first pick, and nearly kept her well into the night, asking her about her life. Everyone in the neighborhood learned that while Mimi could listen well, she could also talk an ear off. In such a close-knit area, an outsider became like one of the family in a few months. 

“Mimi!” Peter called as soon as he saw the tell-tale hat peeking through the rows of plants.

“Oh, hey Petey-Pie!” Mimi ruffled his already messy hair. As always, the older girl wore what she thought of as working clothes, a blouse and shorts, as well as an apron to try and keep most of the dirt off of her clothes. “You here to pick something? If you come back in a few days, the zucchini should be done. Tastes great in a salad.”

Peter bit the bottom of his lip. “I wanted to ask you something, actually. Have you ever heard of anything called Digimon?”

The change was subtle but instantaneous. Mimi’s relaxed, airy attitude switched to one that was, albeit only slightly, more serious. The only noticeable difference was the look in her eyes, searching for something on Peter’s person.

“My friends and I played it when we were kids. It was some game that never really took off.” Her smile widened a fraction as if she was sharing some inside joke that he wasn’t picking up on just yet, and Peter could pick up the mischievous glint in her eye. “Did you read about it somewhere?”

Yaamon took this moment to pop slightly out of Peter’s bag, eyes fully glaring-but-not at this new person he’d yet to be introduced to. “He’s asking ‘cause of me.”

“ _Yaamon!_ ” Peter half-whispered, half-screamed. “We agreed you would stay _in_ the bag!”

Yaamon momentarily redirected his gaze at Peter. “That’s so people won’t find out about me. If she already knows, then why do I need to?”

“Yaamon? Would you like to come out of the bag?” Mimi asked the Digimon. He nodded, which looked rather comical when it was his whole body doing so. “Then it's simple. When out in public with Peter, you need to pretend to be his stuffed toy. Including here, since anyone can walk in. Think you can do that?” Yaamon once again nodded, then hopped into Peter’s arms. The boy barely caught him but adjusted his grip enough to be comfortable. Then, to Peter, she said, “You should tell people what I just told you. Digimon is an obscure game. The Digivices are the only real copies, and only a few people have them because it was never really popular.”

Peter nodded. “We’ve been pretending at home for the past week or so, but I don’t know how to explain how he changed…”

“Did Yaamon digivolve?”

Peter, thankful to finally have someone who knew what was going on, told Mimi exactly what happened. About the egg and the blue device coming from the computer, about the purple puffball who destroyed his room, and the near week they’ve spent together, and finally about the nagging feeling he gets whenever he thinks about telling someone.

Mimi was silent for a moment, before finally saying something rather unexpected. “Do you have your Digivice with you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Peter said, digging around in his bag to get it. He noticed that at the same time, Mimi was unclipping something from her belt. It looked like his, except... “Yours is green!”

Mimi covered her mouth to hide a giggle. “I’ll tell you why a little later. I think you’re already on overload. There’s also more than the two of us with these things and partner Digimon.” Taking the device out of his hand, she fiddled with it for a moment before an actual screen popped up, displaying two arrows right next to each other. “This is a tracker. Anyone who has a Digivice will display as a red arrow. We’re the only two in the city right now, and I always have mine on me, in case you two get in trouble. But, when you feel like you're ready to talk...” She pulled a notepad and a pen out of one of her apron pockets, and began to write. It took until she’d folded it in half and placed it in his hand to realize it was her contact information.

“That has my email, my phone number, some social media, but I doubt your Aunt and Uncle let you use those yet, and my address. I’ll tell you everything you need to know, but I have to contact some people first. Mostly people smarter than me. Maybe I’ll just get Izzy to talk to you.” Mimi seemed to take a minute to consider things. “Oh, I don’t like lying, but it might be necessary in this case.”

“Lying?” Peter asked, still trying to catch up with Mimi.

“You need to give your Aunt and Uncle a reason for meeting up with me.”

“Oh.”

Mimi looked down and smiled sweetly. “It was nice meeting you, Yaamon. I hope you take good care of Peter.”

The sudden serious expression on Yaamon’s face nearly broke the heavy atmosphere that had surrounded Peter when he found out he had to not only continue lying to his Aunt and Uncle but lie _more._ “You bet I will!”

The night after their meeting, Peter _lied_ to his Aunt and Uncle, and told them that Mimi wanted to get younger people involved in the gardening initiative, and he was interested. They both thought it was wonderful, considering he spent almost all of his current free time indoors, and so long as he made it home in time for dinner, which with Mimi could be assured, then there was nothing to be worried about. He showed them her contact info, and they helped him set up a time to meet with her. Since he would be all over the city with her, they even offered to get him his first phone.

Peter felt a little sick.

It soon passed that next Saturday when he met with Mimi in her apartment. She looked at his clothing, made a disapproving noise, and then led him to a computer that made his jaw nearly fall off. Of course, they were only using it for a video call. Mimi’s friend, Izzy, was only really there to keep her on track with an explanation of Digimon.

Apparently, Peter was something called a Digidestined, also known as one of the Chosen Children. Yaamon was his partner, just like the little Digimon said, but it went a little further than that. Izzy apparently had a list of them, all across the world. Give or take one hundred and fifty children out of seven billion people across six occupied continents. On Izzy’s list, _most_ of the Chosen Children had gotten their partners and Digivices around or soon after the original Chosen Children. In the past few years, no new ones had cropped up, and Izzy, being pragmatic, would know, seeing as he’d kept an eye on the Digital World. He apparently knew about Peter’s predicament before Peter knew about Peter’s predicament. What neither Izzy nor Mimi knew was why his Digivice came so late, or early, however you look at it, but they’d look into it.

Despite the people who knew the most about this whole Digidestined business were still a little confused about the timing, Peter was welcomed with opened arms into what, essentially, was a secret club of real, live, _superheroes._ When they told him about their duty to protect both the Digital World and the real world from bad Digimon, Peter didn’t know whether to shout in excitement or faint in nervousness. _Him?_ A _superhero?_ People like Iron-Man, like _Tony Stark_ , become superheroes, not kids with no friends from Queens.

When Peter told Mimi he wasn’t sure if he was ready to be a superhero just yet, she didn’t bother to politely hide her laugh like she usually did. Then, she (very nicely) told him that he would only have to help them if it was necessary, only when he was a little older, and she and Palmon would absolutely make sure he didn’t get hurt. Although Yaamon objected to being treated like a baby, it made Peter feel a little better.

Peter actually did help Mimi with her gardens. It was much nicer than he thought it’d be, and he wondered often how she did it all herself. And it really was by herself. No one in the neighborhoods came to work in the gardens on the days Mimi did, knowing that the girl would be content to do the work on her own. It made Peter a little angry, but whenever he saw Mimi’s face after the work was done, it faded.

As they worked, Peter asked questions. At first, they were mainly about Mimi’s adventures in the Digital World, but then they became about the Digital World itself. The oddities both confused and intrigued him, and he wanted nothing more than to see it for himself. Finally, she declared him “Just as bad as Izzy!”, sat him back down in front of the computer, and opened up a voice chat with the same, sleep-deprived redhead he’d seen on his first day working with her.

“Ask him your questions, because I don’t know! I’m going shopping.”

Five hours later, Peter had the contact information for Izzy, times that were, in his words ‘More Appropriate’ to video call him, and an entirely new wardrobe courtesy of Mimi’s inability to allow her assistant to dress like he had no fashion sense.

Through Mimi, Izzy sent him a communicator that each of the world’s Digidestined were given. The note said it was only to be used ‘In Case of Emergencies’, but as soon as Peter turned it on, it was flooded with welcome messages in a dozen different languages. It took him five minutes to figure out that, through the power of the Internet turned living creature turned back into technology, it had a universal translator button, and there was about a dozen or so different chatrooms for him to pick from that he could now make friends in. The pinned messages ranged from ‘Don’t be a snitch!’ to ‘Don’t say a word to Mr. Izzy!’

When Peter brought it up in conversation with Mimi, she told him Izzy knew about every one of them, and in fact planned for this. They are kids, after all, and would want to talk to each other about what’s going on. There was an emergency override on everyone’s communicator if the need arose, similar to the sirens New York City was installing after witnessing the Iron-Man incident.

Peter decided he liked being a Digidestined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon**  
>  Short for Digital Monster. These creatures are native to the Digital World, and are entirely made out of data. Different communities of Digimon tend to amass together, often by their unique type. Weaker Digimon will also often form communities around the home of a stronger Digimon, which will in turn protect them. If a Digimon is completely destroyed, they will reform in the Primary Village. However, if this takes place in the real world away from a Digital Gate, the Digimon's data is lost.
> 
> **Digital World**  
>  A world made entirely of data and technology. As technology progresses in the real world, the Digital World only becomes more complex, and the creatures within it more powerful. Due to the interconnected nature of the Digital World, if the Digital World is destroyed, the real world will fall soon after.
> 
> **Digidestined**  
>  The Digidestined, or Chosen Children, are marked by their Digivices and their partner Digimon. Their Digivices allow them to assist in their partner's digivolution in order to fight against threats to the harmony of the Digital World, or between the Digital World and the real world. The Digivice can also hold other powers, like when it was used to remove the Black Gears from Digimon on File Island.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter, so I'll be posting the next chapter later today!

A year later, Peter knew all he could about the Digital World. At least, he did for someone who had never been there before. He spent his time collecting information from Izzy and from the Digimon of Digidestined who _had_ been there before they became someone’s partner. The relatively small group meant that there were almost no secrets among them and that all information was free-flowing. If Peter wanted to know something, he simply needed to ask.

Also a year later, it was Izzy who shattered the semi-peaceful existence. “There’s some new Digidestined, here in Japan.”

Peter immediately jumped at the news. “Does that mean that I just got my Digivice earlier than them?”

“No. Strangely, their Digivices are completely different than ours, while yours is the same. On top of that, they can open a Digital Gate rather than having to wait for one to open from the other side,” Izzy got that dazed look in his eyes, the one he usually had when he was contemplating something.

“Digital Gate?”

“It’s what we call an opening to the Digital World. Their Digivices can open one, but something on the other side is blocking ours from doing so.”

“Would it hurt to try?” Peter asked.

“Not really. Make sure to tell me what happens either way. If you or Mimi can open a Gate in America, it’ll be useful. They could use all the help they can get.” With that Izzy hung up, and Peter realized he never told Peter _how_ opening a Digital Gate worked. He put it off until the next day when he would see Mimi and could ask her.

Her answer nearly made him want to forget the whole thing. “Oh, from what my friends said, they just point their Digivice at the computer and yell ‘Digiport, open!’ or something. Kinda lame, right? You can use the computer if you want to try.”

Yaamon nearly vibrated through his arms with excitement by the time they made it to the computer as if he was expecting something to actually happen. Peter, armed with his Digivice, pointed it at the screen and whisper-shouted, “Digiport, open!”

And open, it did.

Indescribable. That was the first world both Mimi and Izzy had used when Peter asked about the Digital World. Now, Peter knew why.

The stars were backwards, or maybe upsidedown. Peter didn’t know much about astronomy, but they weren’t supposed to be like that. There were also stars, despite the sun being the brightest thing in the world, beating directly down into his eyes. And the moon. The moon was too big, way too big. But as soon as he thought that it… backed off a bit. They were laying in the desert, the hotness of the sands evident on any exposed part of his skin, but if he tilted his head slightly he could see a flourishing forest, with no traces of the winds that effected to dunes harming the lush trees. Was that a TV?

“Yaamon?” Peter called, not sure if he was ready just yet to lift his head and confirm that the weight on his chest was indeed the Digimon. Yaamon, thankfully, moved to his range of vision.

“Here, Petey!” The Digimon moved off of him. “And right now, it’s Impmon.” Peter took stock of the change and snorted audibly as he sat up. It looked like Yaamon grew a body, arms, and legs. The brown fuzz had changed to white, and his ears grew a little longer. He had a round torso, skinny legs, and clawed feet, and what he suspected were clawed hands hidden by red gloves, that Peter _did not_ want to get in the way of. The image on his stomach resembled a smiling emoji, only with dead eyes and sharp teeth.

“Is this the Digital World?” Peter asked, then mentally smacked himself. Ya- _Impmon_ wouldn’t know. He’s never been here. “Scratch that. How do we get back?”

“We _just_ got here,” Impmon whined. “Now you wanna go _back_?”

“ _Yes_ , I wanna go back. Mimi and Izzy and their friends were stuck here for _months_ , and they had to forage for food and stuff. D’you wanna forage for your own food, or eat Aunt May’s homemade cookies?” Peter threw his Digimon a pointed look. Impmon grumbled but relented to the logic.

Peter looked around them for anything resembling a gate, when he noticed what he thought was a TV on his first look. It wasn’t a TV, but it _was_ a computer monitor. The boxy kind like this always made him think it was a TV. But, considering what it really was, this was probably his ticket out of here. He aimed his Digivice.

“Digiport, open!”

In less than a second, he and Im- _Yaamon_ , that weight was definitely Yaamon, were in a pile on the floor of Mimi’s apartment, right next to her computer. In the doorway stood a very concerned looking Mimi, on the phone with who Peter could only assume was Izzy. As soon as she saw them, she muttered something along the lines of, “Call it off, they’re back now.” before coming to aid Peter in extracting himself from his own limbs.

“I didn’t expect you to actually be able to do it.” She said, smiling in spite of herself.

“Neither did I,” Peter mumbled to the floor. Then, to Mimi, he asked, “So, when do you wanna visit Palmon?” 

Peter finished tying the blue cloth around Yaamon’s ear, double-knotting it to make sure it would stay in place. The cloth was thicker than a ribbon, almost like a rag or a bandanna, but the inner lining held his initials, thankfully all three of them, just in case his ‘stuffed animal’ got ‘lost’. It was Mimi’s idea to give Yaamon a new accessory, just like it always is, but this was definitely one of her better ones. When he finished, it looked a little like it was covering something up, like a stain, a rip, or a patch. “What happens to this when you digivolve?” Peter asked.

“No clue.” Yaamon flicked his ear, trying out the new accessory. “Does it look cool?”

“It makes you look like you belong with somebody,” Peter said after careful consideration. Ever since Yaamon learned the word ‘cool’, he’d been obsessed with it, and denied the fact that he was anything but. It grated on Peter’s nerves if it went on too long, but in truth, he found it endearing.

Scooping Yaamon into his arms, he walked out into the living room, feeling the Digimon stiffen slightly in his arms, then sat down for mandatory family time with his Aunt and Uncle. As he carefully placed Yaamon in his seat, then maneuvered a blanket around both of them so that he could also see the TV, but Peter could still sneak food to him, he could feel the stares of his family.

He sighed internally. At first, they thought it was cute that he spent time with the ‘stuffed animal’ and slept with it, despite its odd features and the fact that he sometimes spoke to it when they weren’t looking. Then, Peter wanted to Yaamon _everywhere,_ and they stopped thinking it was cute, and started thinking he latched onto the stuffed animal because he had no friends. That’s probably why they let him spend so much time with Mimi, despite the age difference.

From their point of view, he was eleven, almost twelve now, and he was dragging a stuffed animal everywhere, spilling his most inner thoughts to it, and overall pretending its alive (he knows they’ve seen him sneak Yaamon a chip or two during family time once or twice). Since he never did any of this _before_ Yaamon showed up, he knew it looked at least a little off, but he had no idea what to do about it, so he just decided to continue on until the time something came of it.

Thankfully, his Aunt and Uncle decided that that time would not be tonight.

Despite Peter’s ability to open a Digiport in America, he soon found out that, like the entirety of the old guard of Chosen Children, Impmon couldn’t digivolve anywhere near the Dark Towers. This relegated him and Mimi to messengers and back-up rather than anything resembling what the newer Chosen Children could do. None of this stopped Mimi and Peter from helping out the best they could, especially when the new guard had already brought down a Dark Tower. There was a slight problem, however.

Impmon, no matter _where_ he was in the Digital World, Dark Tower or no Dark Tower, couldn’t seem to digivolve past his rookie form. It was almost like he was overly affected by the things, and Peter felt awful just bringing him along if he was going to be affected like this.

Impmon, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind.

“Rookie or not, I can still be more useful than a million o’ those other guys!” He said, adjusting the cloth that had moved from his ear to his neck when he’d digivolved after coming through the Gate.

Currently, he and Impmon were helping to rebuild yet another village after the so-called Digimon Emperor’s attack had been stopped. The Yokomon were grateful for the help clearing out the rubble, but that’s really all he and Impmon could do at this point. Tomorrow, once everything was cleared out, he’d come back and help them start to rebuild their homes.

Peter raised an eyebrow at that and continued collecting pieces of his destroyed structures. He thought he was subtle, but Impmon’s next outburst proved him wrong.

“ _Hey!_ ” The Digimon shouted at him as Peter picked up speed, trying to get away from the headbutt that was about to happen. He only stopped when he reached the ever-growing pile of rubble that Impmon’s fire attack would get rid of. Once he dropped what was in his hands, Peter turned around, a smile on his face.

“Don’t worry Impmon, you’ll always be the coolest to m- _OOF!_ ,” He was cut off with a headbutt to the stomach. As he curled in on his stomach, laughing with tears in his eyes, all he could think was, ‘ _At least his head isn’t as hard as Veemon’s.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon:**  
>  **Impmon**  
>  Impmon is a naturally strong-willed Digimon. He hides any sign of weakness behind flashy feats of strength. Impmon is naturally mischievous, but his worst pranks are directed towards those he doesn't like. His most common attack is _Bada Boom_ , a fire attack that uses dark flames and small explosions to hit his opponents.  
>  **Palmon**  
>  Palmon is a plant Digimon, an all green Digimon with a flower growing out of her head. Her most common attack is _Poison Ivy_ where the vines that make up her fingers grow and attack her opponent. They can be used as whips, or to entrap them.  
>  **Yokomon**  
>  Yokomon are small, plant-like Digimon, often mistaken for flowers. They have many root-like feet and digivolve into Biyomon. Yokomon tend to group together and live in a village at the foot of a volcano, where a large, fire Digimon Meramon protects them.  
>  **Veemon**  
>  Veemon is an ancient Digimon who slept beneath the Digimental of Courage, waiting for the Digidestined who could remove the egg and set him free. Once Davis, his partner, released him, the two led the new group of Chosen Children in their fight to save the Digital World.


	4. Chapter 4

A few months after Peter turned twelve, the new Chosen Children completed their first objective and took down the Digimon Emperor, also known as some kid named Ken Ichijouji. The second, incredibly daunting, objective still remained; rebuild the Digital World. The first part seemed obvious. Take out all the remaining Dark Towers, Dark Rings, and Dark Spirals, and the Digital World would be able to help right itself, with some help. The rest would take time and a whole lot of effort, but it would get there.

So, the new guard of Chosen Children set about trying to remove the Towers, while the rest started to help deconstruct the innumerable constructions of the Digimon Emperor and rebuild the communities that once were.

And when Ken Ichijouji asked to atone for his crimes, with tear-stained cheeks and more threatening to spill over from his eyes, his partner that everyone swore was dead held tightly to his chest, no one thought twice about allowing him to help, not even the Digimon.

Peter and Mimi spent more and more time in the Digital World, feeling an obligation to help out as much as they could. She introduced him and Impmon to Elecmon at Primary Village, and left him to play with, or rather babysit, with Impmon while she and Elecmon caught up. Eventually, the baby Digimon ran both Peter and Impmon ragged, and simply sat on top of the both of them, jumping up and down, yelling ‘ _Play! Play!’_ over and over again.

Peter eventually rolled over and pulled an increasingly agitated Impmon out of the way. “ _Mimi!_ Please help!” He practically begged as the hoard of baby Digimon made a move to jump on his stomach.

“Enough roughhousing!” Elecmon yelled in a booming voice, which caused all of the baby Digimon to begin laughing, then scatter, but only for the moment. Peter knew it was only for the moment, simply because this had already happened three times in the two hours they’d been there.

Both Mimi and Palmon hid a giggle behind their hands, and Palmon used her vines to help the exhausted pair stand. “Oh, Peter, we got a message from the others while you were playing!”

The smile on his face fell. “Are they in trouble?”

“No, but they have something they want us to check out. Do you need to be home soon?”

“I have a few more hours before I need to go, we can check it out.” Peter immediately began scanning the sky, on the lookout for the flying members of their group. “Is it nearby?”

“I think so. TK and Kari are about five minutes out.”

TK and Kari were both members of the original group of Digidestined. They were younger than the original members, though, young enough that they were still around his age while everyone else from that group was at least in high school. Their Digivices had changed in order to accommodate the new type of digivolution, Armor-Digivolution, that allowed them to change while still in proximity of the Dark Towers.

TK’s Digimon, Patamon, a very round, little orange and beige sort of thing that had large wings for ears and could shoot exploding bubbles as an attack, would become Pegasusmon, and Gatomon, a white, cat-like Digimon that stood on two legs, punched anyone who was in her way, and who was naturally a Champion level Digimon, was able to transform into Nefertitimon. Both were able to fly, which was useful for situations like this one.

It took just under five minutes for Peter to see the small group off in the distance. As soon as he knew the gesture would be seen, he waved, and then elbowed Impmon in the side until his partner did too. Grumbling, his partner reluctantly waved once, then went back to fumbling with the cloth around his neck.

“You missed all the babysitting fun.” Peter ran up to TK, ready to return the offered high five before Impmon stole it.

“Don’t worry.” Mimi sauntered past both him and lightly smacked TK on the hand he was still holding out for his American friend. “I took video.” 

Peter felt the blood nearly drain out of his face as his head dropped into his hands. He could practically feel Impmon shaking with the effort it took not to laugh at his embarrassment at the fact that there was _video_ of him trying to teach Duck-Duck-Goose to a bunch of rambunctious baby Digimon, which would no doubt make its rounds among the Chosen Children’s various chatrooms.

“Stop teasing him, Mimi,” Kari said, although Peter heard something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _Send me that later.’_ “We’re on a time restraint.”

Peter narrowed his eyes. “Why are you guys here right now, anyways? Isn’t it like,” Peter paused to do some mental calculations, then gave up. “It’s either super late or really early where you are.”

“We’re on vacation right now, so we’re camping here and trying to get as much done as possible,” TK said as he pulled Peter onto Pegasusmon’s back. “It’s only for a few more days, though, so we’ll be seeing a bit less of each other unless we specifically plan it over text.”

“What did you tell your parents?”

“What do you mean?” Kari asked.

“If you’ve been gone for a few days, where do your parents think you are?” Peter asked. “At each other’s houses?”

“Well, Cody and Davis are pretending to be at TK’s house, and Yolei at mine, but that’s only because their parents don’t know, not yet,” Kari said. “If things keep going this way, we might have to tell them, seeing how much time we spend here. But TK’s mom and my parents both know about Digimon and our responsibilities, so they allow us a little bit of leeway.”

After that admission, Peter decided not to ask any more questions until they made it to wherever it was they were going.

“Where are we?”

Stone. They were surrounded by shattered stone that once used to be something, packed dirt that every few feet allowed grass to grace their presence, and bits and pieces of the sky. The real question wasn’t really ‘ _Where are we?’,_ but rather, ‘ _Where did this used to be?’_

“Ruins,” TK answered. In spite of himself, a small shiver went up Peter’s spine. He’d seen ruins around the Digital World before, plenty of them, but the only ones he really bothered to enter were the fresh ones in search of survivors. “C’mon, it’s up here.”

“Mind telling me what exactly I’m going to be messing with before I do any messing?” Peter asked, minding his step.

No one answered for a while. When Kari finally took pity on him, it was still too little of one for his liking. “We think it might have to do with a Crest of some sort, but we’re not entirely sure how.”

“You mean like Mimi’s necklace?” Impmon asked. Then, to clarify, “The fancy-looking green and gold one she's always wearing.”

Mimi smiled. “That’s my Crest of Purity. Do you really think that this is a new Crest?”

She shrugged. "Izzy isn't done doing his thing, but he thinks its a possibility.”

By the time they entered the chamber where the supposed Crest (and Tag, as Peter found out along the way) waited, Izzy, who had been busy at work deciphering the writings on the wall with the help of his Digimon partner Tentomon and his trusty laptop, was muttering to himself in a daze.

“Izzy, we’re back!” TK called, rather loudly, but Izzy continued working as if he hadn’t heard anything. Peter wondered whether he had or not. Izzy’s reputation for being a workaholic was legendary, even among the younger and the foreign Digidestined. TK tried once again, this time both closer and louder, “ _Izzy, we’re back!_ ”

Izzy jolted back, just barely catching himself before he found himself on the ground. “Oh, you’re back.” TK simply shook his head and let Kari take over.

“We brought Mimi and Peter, but we thought it was better to let you do the explanation since you’ve been doing the translation.”

Izzy waved them over as he stood up, and Peter noticed how gaunt his face looked, like he hadn’t slept much. Or at all. “The Crest that’s been placed here is called the ‘Crest of Responsibility’. According to what I have so far, its activation marks the beginning of a great battle that will decide the very fate of the Digital World. Or so this part of the wall says.”

Peter went wide-eyed. “S-so why not just leave it there, then?”

Izzy raised an eyebrow at him. “Just because we leave it in there doesn’t mean whatever evil it’s going to warn us against won’t come. We just won’t be warned. Besides,” Izzy continued, trying to translate and talk at the same time. “We think it might be yours.”

“Mine? You have a catalog of about a hundred Digidestined to pick from right there on your laptop, why would this one be mine?”

Rather than responding, Izzy simply pointed to a section of the wall where, instead of any writing, a partial image was still intact. One that looked remarkably similar to…

“Hey! Petey, that looks like me!” Impmon exclaimed, rushing over with a little too much gusto as he tripped over a stray rock and landed with a solid _OOMPH!_ On the ground about a foot from where he started. Peter absentmindedly shook his head as he walked over, a little more carefully than his partner, and knelt down to inspect the image.

Yes, the half of it that remained looked very much like his partner’s rookie form, right down to the cloth around his neck that Peter had placed there himself. But that didn’t _mean_ anything, right?

“Do you know what this part over here says?” Peter asked.

“Not exactly,” Izzy said, and Peter immediately decided that that phrase was his least favorite in the world. “This place isn’t in the best of shape. Half the stuff I need to translate is missing.”

Peter hummed in acknowledgment as he leaned closer to the piece of stone. As soon as he felt his hand brush against it, a tingling sensation spread across the tips of his fingers, across his hand, and up his arm. A bright light began to shine from his pocket where he faintly remembered he had placed his Digivice, and Peter pulled the small device out. As soon as it was free, the light only increased from bright to blinding, and he was forced to cover his eyes with his other arm. After what seemed like an eternity, the light faded and Peter could remove the arm from in front of his face and open his eyes, which he hadn’t noticed he closed.

There was no longer a stone in front of him. Where the partial wall-relief once stood, mocking the elements while still crumbling to bits before them, there was now a perfectly carved hole in the wall. Everyone in the room stared at Peter, full of anticipation. He desperately wanted to be anywhere but here, but reached around in the carved rock, nonetheless.

His hand wrapped around a small, golden necklace, with something similar to a golden dog-tag hanging from the chain, but much, much thicker. The middle had a perfect rectangle cut into it, and the shape resembled a triangle with a corner cut off attached to half of a hexagon. At the bottom looked like one of the hieroglyphs that Izzy had spent who knows how long translating.

“It’s a Tag.” At some point, Mimi moved to lean over Peter’s shoulder and see what he had pulled out. “Which means you have a Crest!”

“If you just pulled out the Tag, it also means that your Crest probably isn’t here,” Izzy said. His voice sounded a little disappointed. Peter didn’t know _why_ , because considering his Crest was now a harbinger of some Digi-Apocalypse, he didn’t know if he wanted the thing.

TK hummed to himself. “Izzy, you already took pictures of everything, right?”

Izzy nodded, then began to pack up. TK turned to Peter and Mimi. “We need to get Izzy to a Gate so he can get home before he passes out. Then we can take you guys home!”

Peter furrowed his brow, confused. “Shouldn’t we… Don’t you guys want to find the Crest?” He asked, slightly confused.

Kari smiled at him as she extended a hand to help him to his feet. Peter eagerly accepted. “It could be anywhere in the Digital World. We mostly found all of ours by a mix of luck, accident, and fate. I’m sure you’ll find it when you need to, considering all the time we’ll be spending here.” She paused, a sad look crossing her face for a few seconds. Peter blinked, and it was gone. “And finding it where it is doesn’t always mean you’ll be able to take it immediately _or_ use it right away. Though while we’re on the look-out, Izzy can figure out who our next big baddie will be, and you can help us figure out how to take him out!”

Before Peter could say anything about how he’s not really a fighter, how his Digimon hasn’t really figured out how to even digivolve after almost _two years_ , and how all he’s ever done in the Digital World was pass messages, small skirmishes, and build villages. Before Peter could even mention that maybe, just maybe, he’s not the right one to put their hopes on for any sort of ‘Save the World’ gig (so could they just pass this Crest to someone who knows how to use it please?), Impmon stole his chance.

“ _Heck_ yeah!” Impmon shouted, right next to his ear. “I _told_ ya I was cooler ‘n a million o’ those other guys. We’re totally gonna beat bad Digi-butt!”

Peter, despite all that was happening, couldn’t help but smile at his partner’s antics.

After Izzy had been dropped off with his things at the nearest Gate possible and sent through by TK, Kari invited Mimi and Peter to eat with them before he went back.

“But I understand if you need to get back.” She said, Digivice already in hand and ready to fly him to the Gate. Mimi, who appointed herself official time-keeper due to Peter’s tendency to be an airhead when he got too into any task and Impmon’s ‘ _Like I need a curfew, I’m the world’s coolest Digimon!’_ attitude, told them all they had plenty of time before Peter had to go home.

Allowing Mimi take point with the rest of their human companions, with Palmon and Impmon walking amiably behind them, Peter fiddled with the Tag now hanging around his neck. He never really asked all too much about them, or what they really did, considering he didn’t get one when Yaamon’s egg came out of the computer. He was more interested in stuff that he could one day do or see, rather than stuff that didn’t have to do with him.

“Don’t think about it too much.”

Peter glanced up at Mimi, expecting to see her looking at him again, but she was still walking ahead of him, facing forward with her head held high. He looked back down at the Tag one more time, then tucked it safely beneath his shirt before running to catch up with the others.

Over the past almost-two-years, Peter had gotten used to eating lots of different kinds of food. The kids that talked through the various Chosen Chatrooms liked to send presents, and a lot of them sent baked goods. Although he’d asked the rest of the Digidestined not to send anything to his apartment specifically, seeing as he had no way to explain a bunch of random kids around the world suddenly knowing him, most of them decided that sending them to Mimi was the best way around that. The one shared denominator between Digimon, it seemed, was their insatiable appetite.

Kari called attention to everyone in the group, gathering the remainder of the new Chosen Children camping out. Yolei and Cody and their partners, Hawkmon and Armadillomon, quieted quickly, while Davis and Veemon continued to talk animatedly around someone sitting on the ground. When Peter took a second glance at who it was, his smile was slightly more strained. Ken Ichijouji and his partner, Wormmon, sat towards the edge of the picnic as if they were trying to keep themselves as far away from everyone else.

“Human picnic.” Kari pointed to a pile of food that looked like it would feed more than everyone here. “Digimon picnic.” Peter turned his head in time with Impmon and just barely saw his eyes widen at the sheer amount of food piled up.

“Woah,” Was Peter’s only reply. Impmon forwent any words and immediately raced Veemon for the chips. “ _Impmon!_ You will _share.”_

Only once he spotted Impmon splitting the bag of chips he’d just one in the Digital World’s quickest and friendliest wrestling match did Peter turn away from the Digimon and sit down with the rest of the humans in order to get his share of the food. As he made himself a plate, he noticed everyone else was staring at him and struggling to keep smiles off of their faces.

Peter’s hand paused halfway between the plate and his mouth. “What?”

“It’s you and Impmon,” TK said, pretending to thoughtfully tap his chin. “Did Mimi or Izzy ever tell you about Devimon?”

Peter winced. “They told me enough.” He knew about how the devil Digimon ripped File Island apart, separated the group of Digidestined, and used something called Black Gears to turn Digimon into mindless monsters, which were far too similar to the Dark Rings.

Kari chewed on her fingernail, nervously considering what exactly to say next. “None of us have had the best experience with devil type Digimon. When Mimi told us about Impmon, we were surprised, and a little cautious. But, whenever we see you with him, we’re reminded that he's just another silly Digimon." She looked over at the Digimon in question, who was demanding to wrestle the others for the right to eat the last bag of gummy worms. "If a little too hotheaded at times.”

“And the way you keep his ego in check is kind of hilarious,” Yolei added as she casually took a sip from her juice box.

Peter ducked his head and felt his ears turn pink, for once grateful for the fact that since he hadn’t gotten it cut in a while, the curls covered most of his blush. He took this opportunity to stuff food into his mouth so he could avoid having to answer any questions they would ask him because after _that_ he really didn’t think he could. After the second mouthful of random assortments thrown into his mouth, Peter felt a familiar buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his communicator, he saw a rather unfamiliar message gracing the screen, one that he didn’t actually know was possible.

_‘INBOX FULL’._

Using one hand, he flipped through the messages.

‘ _Just woke up and found out about New York.’_

_‘Anyone hear from Petey or Mimi?’_

_‘Got an eye on the news here. Anyone got his cellphone #?’_

_‘Doesn’t he live in Queens? Someone w/ good Internet, look up what’s happening there!’_

_‘Mimi lives in Brooklyn, packages all go there. Do u think they met up, went to some shelter 2gether?’_

Every chatroom he’d ever been a part of, every person he’d ever messaged, all of them were trying to get ahold of him and Mimi due to something that happened in New York City. Something incredibly bad. The more he read, the more confused he became about the situation. Some sort of monsters invading New York through some sort of portal, destroying parts of the city.

“Mimi,” Peter said, unable to take his eyes away from the messages. “We need to go home. _Now._ ”

Too quiet. Too much dust in the air, distant crying, sobbing, outside the window a familiar skyscraper had a _hole_ in it, and all of it all at once threw Peter into a panicked mindset. Absentmindedly, he squeezed Yaamon, knowing in the back of his mind that the Digimon would protest under normal circumstances to such treatment. There was no grumbling.

The others didn’t want them to go home, not until they knew it was safe to go through the Gate. Peter and Mimi wanted to check on their families immediately. Seeing this, Peter couldn’t help but think they might’ve been right.

To his side, Mimi adjusted her hat and grabbed his hand. He looked at her, hoping the teen had an idea of what to do. His mind forgot to register that she was squeezing a little too hard.

She led him to room away from the windows and told him to sit for a moment, then tried to make a few calls, hoping that any of them would get through. When none of them did, she sighed. The panicked look Peter had when they first came through the Gate was now faded, but it was still clear in his eyes.

She kneeled on the ground in front of him and forced him to focus on her. “Peter, we need to find someone who can help us find your Aunt and Uncle and my parents. Are you alright to go outside?”

Peter readjusted his still-tight grip on Yaamon, then nodded.

Subways were closed, most entrances shuttered off. The trio passed no one on the street, and any cars they saw were empty. The dust that had settled on all the windows at Mimi’s apartment was thick in the air. Peter lifted his shirt up to filter some of it out, while Mimi took the pink cloth out of her hair in order to cover her face. Yaamon, lacking arms, relied on Peter to cover his mouth for him.

“What do you think did this?” Peter asked, his voice muffled but clearly audible in the eerie quiet of the city street. “A Digimon?”

“No. Any Digimon that would do this, we would know about beforehand.”

The parts of the city that were hit the worst by whatever had happened were in the opposite direction of Peter’s home, so as they closer to Queens and the Parker apartment, Peter stopped for a moment to tie Yaamon’s cloth back onto his ear and allow Mimi to tie her hair back up.

Somewhere behind him, he heard his Aunt May scream, “ _Peter!”_ and in an instant Mimi let go of his hand to allow him to turn around. Before he could even pretend to have seen her, May nearly suffocated both him and Yaamon in a steel grip (lifting him a solid inch-and-a-half off of the ground in her relief despite his recent growth spurt).

“We had no idea where you were, we checked _everywhere,_ ” His Aunt cried right into his ear, which nearly spurred on a set of tears of his own. Through the long strands of hair that were blocking his eyes, he could see the relieved face of his Uncle Ben smiling at him. “Why on _Earth_ didn’t you bring your phone with you? That’s the entire reason we got you one, in case something like this happened.”

“May,” Uncle Ben said, a small warning in his tone of voice. Peter’s Aunt pulled back slightly, but she still refused to let go of his shoulders. “I think it would be best if we all went inside. Mimi, you should come with us until we can contact your parents. I don’t like the idea of you trying to get home alone.”

The teen nodded and thanked him, letting the Parker family take lead up into their apartment where Peter and Mimi were promptly sat down on the couch and told to _stay,_ while Aunt May and Uncle Ben collected rags, bowls of water to clean their, apparently dusty despite the covers, faces and first aid kits as a just-in-case.

As Aunt May passed by him on her way to the bathroom cabinet in order to collect the heavy-duty first aid kit, which meant she must be truly, deeply worried, Peter continued to stare down at Yaamon in his arms, fiddled with the chain of the Tag around his neck, and tried to think of something to say to his Aunt and Uncle about where he’d been during the whatever had happened.

If they asked him any details about the event, he knew he would have no idea what to say. All of the messages were vague, simply saying something about _monsters_ attacking New York City, half of them wondering if some sort of Digital Gate had opened in the sky. He knew that images were on the news, but he and Mimi had thankfully returned after all the commotion. There was no way that they'd have missed all they did, even if they stayed inside Mimi's house the entire time. Peter, after his almost-two-years of dealing with Digimon and Chosen Children, thought he might have an answer that wouldn’t make his stomach turn.

“Mimi,” He whispered, turning his head slightly to the teen sitting next to him on the couch. “Do you think I should tell them?”

Skipping right over wondering what he wanted to tell them, because there’s really only one secret Peter could ever really keep all too well, and right into contemplation, Mimi came back with a shrug. “All of our parents found out on accident, and after that, they had to accept it, or deal with some really bad consequences. I think the real question is, do you think you should?”

By the time Aunt May and Uncle Ben finally collected all of their supplies, set everything up on the table, and decided the rags they were using could be ruined, Peter’s head was held high with determination at his decision.

“Aunt May, Uncle Ben, I have something to tell you about where we were today,” Peter started, glancing first at Mimi, then at Yaamon. “But I think you won’t believe me until we show you.”

Instantly, Yaamon fell out of his stiffened state, grateful for the ability to relax in the home. Then, remembering something of the manners Peter had tried to teach him, he popped back to attention, turned to his partner’s family, and said, “Nice to officially meet’ya! My name is Yaamon, and I’m Peter’s Digimon Partner!”

If Aunt May hadn’t already fainted, she would’ve screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon -**
> 
> **Patamon**  
>  An incredibly optimistic Digimon that resembles a large guinea pig. Patamon is orange and beige in color and has bat-like wings for ears, which he can use to fly for short distances. His most common attack is _Boom Bubble_ which shoots a small amount of concentrated air at his opponent.  
>  **Gatomon**  
>  A white cat-like Digimon that walks on two legs. She wears yellow gloves that only expose her deadly claws. The power ring on her tail increases the power of her punches. Unlike the rest of the Digidestined's Digimon, Gatomon remains in Champion form naturally due to events of her past.  
>  **Elecmon**  
>  Elecmon is the caretaker for Primary Village. He lovingly watches over the newly hatched Digimon and fends off any intruders. He is quick to rush to battle to defend his charges, but once you prove you are an ally, he will defend you just as fiercely.  
>  **Pegasusmon/Nefertitimon**  
>  Pegasusmon and Nefertitmon are the Armor-Digivolved forms of Patamon and Gatomon, respectively. Patamon must use the Digimental of Light, while Gatomon must use the Digimental of Hope, which were TK and Kari's original Crests. Pegasusmon resembles an armored Pegasi, while Nefertitimon resembled a female Sphinx with wings.
> 
>  **Tags and Crests**  
>  What allowed the original Digidestined's Digimon to digivolve past the Champion level were the Tags and Crests. The Tags are identical golden necklaces, while each Crest is a small, rectangular object that is unique to each individual. They are only able to be activated when that individual embodies what the Crest represents. The original Crests were those of Courage, Friendship, Purity, Honesty, Knowledge, Love, Light, Hope, and Kindness. The second generation of Digidestined adopted their symbols through the Digimentals, which allowed them to Armor-Digivolve. 
> 
>   
> **The Digimon Emperor and His Creations**  
>  Ken Ichijouji, the holder of the Crest of Kindness, was corrupted by a dark force during an early trip to the Digital World. He was compelled to create Dark Towers, which would block digivolution. These Dark Towers would also be the control centers for the Dark Rings and Dark Spirals, which turned any Digimon that wore them into mindless slaves. Ken was able to cause such destruction to the Digital World because he held the belief that Digimon were not real creatures.  
> Only his partner Wormmon believed that Ken could return to the way he was before, a kind, loving boy deserving of the Crest he was chosen to wield.


	5. Chapter 5

Two years after what people called the Battle of New York and the city fully rebuilt itself. The government carted the _alien artifacts_ off to who knows where, and the clean-up effort, as well as the rebuilding effort, was the fastest out of any disaster Peter’s ever seen or heard of. When Peter commented on it one day shortly after the subways reopened, Uncle Ben joked that it was because it wasn’t funded by the actual government, and they left it there. Overall, Peter was happy that no Digimon were involved, but also slightly upset that he missed actual, real-life _aliens._ When he expressed his thoughts on the matter, Aunt May promptly swatted him on the back of the head and told him he had enough to worry about without adding extraterrestrials into the mix.

Two years passed since the Avengers were first formed, Stark Tower turned into Avengers Tower, and a team of real-life, honest to God, _superheroes_ , including _both_ Captain America and Iron-Man, took up residence in New York City. For the first few days after the attack, Peter sent several dozen messages telling everyone he was alright and assumed Mimi was doing the same. The conversation among the Digidestined quickly shifted to a shared regret.

_If only._ If only they were there, if only they knew what was happening, if only they fought alongside the Avengers. They might just be kids, but they could protect people with the power they had. Somehow, Izzy got word of where everyone’s conversations were heading and used his technology-God powers to set everyone straight.

The Digidestined and their Digimon partners weren’t chosen to protect the Earth from aliens. They were supposed to protect the two worlds from threats of the digital kind. Yet, things like the Chitauri were similarly dangerous and lacked the ability to reform once destroyed, like Digimon do with their data. Conversation quickly turned back to normal, everyday things, with only occasional mentions of Avengers’ sightings.

Two years or so passed since Mimi left town. A month after the invasion, her father jumped at the change to transfer to anywhere but New York. Apparently, her parents could handle the Digimon. They could even handle Mimi going to the Digital World and fighting alongside her Digimon. But, when it was something new, something that needed a guy like _the Hulk_ to fight it, they seemed to draw the line. Mimi didn’t bother to argue that she’d seen Tai and Matt fight a few guys that could hit like the Hulk (and maybe even a little harder, if she thought about it).

She left her old laptop with Peter, promising him again and again that it was alright, and that she’d be able to get a new one when she got settled. She sent him her new phone number and her new address. Peter sent her homemade cookies courtesy of Aunt May, and Mimi kept sending him outfits so he wouldn’t ‘Look like he just fell out of a washing machine.’

Two years had passed since Peter told his Aunt and Uncle the truth. Once the words started to spill from his mouth, he just couldn’t seem to stop them. He told them about how Yaamon had come to him, specifically, how that meant he was a Chosen Child, how he’d helped so much in the Digital World since he’d started going, and how Yaamon was the best friend he’d ever had.

It took a lot of convincing, cajoling, promises to be safe, demonstrations that, yes, he could come back each and every time he traveled through the Digital Gate, and video chats with resident human expert Izzy for them to fully accept this side of him and the fact that he might, just sometimes, have to be in danger. They did, however, immediately take a liking to Yaamon and the more brash side of Peter that he brought out. The little Digimon more often than not spent time watching TV with Aunt May on the couch whenever Peter was busy, was allowed to sneak food off of Uncle Ben’s plate when the man ‘wasn’t looking’ and got to lick the spoon whenever Aunt May baked.

Two years of rebuilding the Digital World and the Chosen Children had made quite a bit of progress themselves. Ken had grown out of his shell, and Digimon no longer shied away when they saw him. Several villages were rebuilt, sturdier than they had been before, although the small group of Digidestined who could access the Digital World on a semi-regular basis still had their work cut out for them in both returning the world to a state of peace and keeping it that way. During long weekends, Peter spent several days at a time in the Digital World, helping out and searching for his Crest.

Only three months or so had passed since his Uncle Ben had died.

After Mimi left, Peter continued to tend to the gardens, taking special care of the one in their neighborhood. He didn’t want her work to be in vain, and he few people cared about the upkeep, and even less knew how to do it. One night, he worked a little too late while trying to get all of the plants repotted. He ignored Yaamon’s warnings about the time over and over again, and by the time he was done, it was dark. What Peter didn’t know, was that his Uncle Ben came to get him.

When Peter walked out of the greenhouse, he saw his Uncle a little way down the street, flat on the ground with a pool of blood forming underneath him. A masked man with a gun took one look at Peter, then turned tail and ran.

Immediately Peter ran to his Uncle’s side, fumbling around in his pockets for his regular cellphone. One hand gripped around his Digivice, and for a split second, an image of Impmon chasing down the gunman ran through his head. But, as if Uncle Ben read his mind, the older man grabbed his wrist and slowly shook his head.

Peter made the call and kept his uncle talking as long as he could, trying to focus on anything but the sticky warmth he felt seeping through the man’s shirt. His uncle ignored his shaky assurances that he’d be alright and had the nerve to give Peter words of wisdom (rather than conserve his strength) as he lay dying on the side of the street. They were words Peter would never forget.

The paramedics said that, unfortunately, his Uncle died long before they arrived.

The funeral, condolences, and swift changes to the Parker household flew by Peter in the past three months as he prepared himself for high school without his Uncle by his side, but one constant remained. Yaamon remained a steadfast source of comfort, able to make Peter laugh no matter what mood he was in. The Digidestined of the chatroom, informed through the chain of chatter about his Uncle’s untimely death were comforting, but in a more intimate way than the rest of the neighborhood. Even though he wasn’t _talking_ to any of them (he’d barely met any of them in person, and called only a handful more), he could talk to all of them just as easily as he could his Aunt.

These were the reasons why Aunt May allowed him to bring Yaamon with him to his first day at his new school, despite the fact that he was far too old to be carrying around a stuffed animal. From his experience in middle school with being teased, Peter knew that it would be better if Yaamon hid in his bag until he could find some empty classroom to eat lunch in. The problem with that plan was that his partner refused to be stuck in a bag all day since he was allowed in a new place for the first time in months.

So, for his first day at high school, Peter pushed open the doors, holding what to everyone else looked like the world’s weirdest stuffed animal, and tried not to draw any more attention to himself by hunching over whenever he walked and keeping Yaamon hidden behind desks in class.

The pair didn’t even make it to lunch.

In the hallway, between second and third period, a time during which Peter’s only thought was really _‘Thank God this day is already halfway done’_ , someone lobbed a very thick, very solid textbook towards Peter’s head. Whoever it was fortunately missed, but unfortunately still hit him in the back, throwing him completely off balance and making him decide between holding on to Yaamon, definitely crushing the little Digimon, and possibly catching himself with one arm, or dropping the little Digimon a few feet, which he knew the guy could hop on his own anyway, and catching himself with both hands. Peter chose the latter, hoping he could make it up to his friend at lunch by giving up his share of the chips.

Peter scrambled to his knees as quickly as he could, and immediately located Yaamon. The Digimon hadn’t fallen out of his ‘stuffed animal’ even though he’d hit the tiled floor, probably thanks to the average number of tumbles Peter took in a week. Peter shuffled around to grab his glasses, which had fallen off his face when he hit the floor, and then sat back on his knees, ready to grab Yaamon again. Then, Peter’s worst fear was realized, and some stranger’s hands grabbed took hold of his partner before he could even think to move his arms.

But, rather than having to fight for his Digimon back, the stranger extended on arm to Peter in order to help him up, while holding and uncomfortable looking Yaamon in his other arm.

“You okay?” The stranger said as he hoisted Peter to his feet. As soon as Peter was steady, he immediately held Yaamon out, and Peter graciously took him. “I think Flash is the one who threw that. I went to middle school with him and he can be kind of a jerk sometimes.”

Peter, who hadn’t really talked to anyone his age in a school setting outside of passing pleasantries, harsh teasing, or group projects, suspected this might be more than a little bit of passing small talk. The kid in front of him was on the heavy-set side, which sadly made him a target for most bullies. The shocking print on his shirt which surprisingly worked for him made him just a little bit too memorable. Peter was pretty sure they’d already had a class before, and if the way he was acting in that class, this kid wanted what Peter did: To be anything _but_ memorable.

“Is your toy okay?” There was no mocking tone to the word _toy_ , no hint of a prank coming along in the next few minutes. For once, Peter smiled to someone he went to school with, and it felt genuine.

“Don’t worry,” Peter said, patting the top of Yaamon’s head. “I’m a bit of a klutz, so he’s taken a few tumbles before.” He offered his hand to the kid. “Peter Parker.”

“Oh, right, names,” The kid said, mostly to himself. “I’m Ned! Ned Leeds. Dude, you’ve _gotta_ tell me where you got that. I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Peter laughed nervously as the warning bell rang, freeing him from having to say anything. “Tell you at lunch?”

“Deal.”

As it turned out, Peter had every class with Ned Leeds except for second period, but considering their second periods were right next to each other, it didn’t matter all too much. Peter continued to bring Yaamon to school with him, Ned continued to ask him questions about the one-of-a-kind stuffed animal, and Peter continued to dodge them with the skill of a practiced non-liar.

Through sheer persistence alone, Ned and Peter became fast friends, and soon became close friends. Whenever Peter went home at night and told his Aunt May about school, it always involved Ned. Whenever Peter would talk to the others in the chatroom, he would mention Ned and what they did that day at least once.

For the first time since Uncle Ben’s death, Peter felt like things were returning to some semblance of normalcy. Sure, his newest, in-person friend thought his oldest, best friend was just a really cool looking stuffed animal, but Peter could pretend that was an inside joke if he tried hard enough.

Then came the field trip.

The day was already going to be a disaster, Peter knew it was. The first reason was that he had to leave Yaamon at home, alone, all day long. He couldn’t take any chances by bringing him into any of these science demonstrations, and Aunt May wasn’t going to be home until after he got back. So, poor Yaamon would be forced to watch reruns on the DVR and eat his emergency chips all day.

The second reason was that he just _felt_ like something was going to go wrong. The last time he got a gut feeling like this was on the first day of school, and that was the day he’d met Flash Thompson. Yeah, he met Ned that day too, but that evidence didn’t support his hypothesis, and thus was being discounted.

Halfway through the tour, his suspicions were proven correct. He felt a prickle on his hand, swatted at it, surprised to actually _hit something_. In a panic over the fact that a spider just bit him in a facility where they tested on spiders, Peter screamed the shrillest shriek that had ever come out of his mouth. This, however, didn’t make anyone take him or his panic serious, nor did the babbling about how he’d just been _bitten by a spider_ in a facility that _used insects as tests subjects._

“Spiders aren’t insects, Mr. Parker,” His teacher said to him in an attempt to calm him down. It didn’t work.

Instead, Peter, who was determined to not be feeling very well due to a completely unrelated illness, was escorted to the bus by one of the chaperones, and very soon the excuse that he wasn’t feeling well became a reality. His Aunt was called at work, she took the rest of the day off, and he was picked up in front of the whole class, who weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were still kind of laughing at him.

At the same time, Peter was both really glad Ned wasn’t in that class with him, and really wished his friend was able to come along, if just for some moral support.

Back at home, his May immediately turned into more of a mother hen than usual. Smothered with blankets, loaded up with multiple bowls of fresh, steaming chicken noodle soup and packets of crackers, and given orders not to get out of bed unless he absolutely had to, Peter was stuck staring at the now blurry ceiling while Yaamon tried to keep his worried chatter down. Every once in a while, Peter would answer him with a quiet hum, or even a full word, but eventually those turned into pained moans as his entire body began cramping.

Sometime during the night, Peter’s fever grew dangerously high. Knowing that humans weren’t supposed to suddenly change in temperature so drastically, Yaamon left the room to alert Aunt May. Though when she came running to check on Peter, he wasn’t nearly as bad as the small Digimon said.

“He’ll be okay, Yaamon,” She said quietly so as not to disturb Peter.

“But it felt like I was laying next to Meramon just a minute ago…”

Aunt May raised an eyebrow at him as a corner of her mouth raised. “I know you’re worried, but I promise you that he’s getting better. His fever is going down.” When Yaamon didn’t look satisfied at the answer, Aunt May sighed. “It might be bad now, but when he’s all better, he’ll be stronger for it.”

Yaamon’s eyes flicked away from Aunt May for a moment as Peter turned over in his sleep. “Really?”

“Mhm. Every sickness makes us just a little stronger.” Aunt May slowly picked herself up off of the bed and held her arms out for the Digimon. “Let’s go watch some TV. Peter needs to rest in order to get stronger.”

Peter woke up confused. He was no longer baking in his own skin but shivering to death at the same time. Instead of feeling like he’d vomit at the sight of food, his stomach was ravenous. In fact, he felt like he could rival Yaamon at the breakfast table for once. His muscles ached in a strange way. They weren’t particularly like Peter remembered from when he last had the flu, or whatever this bug was comparable to, but more like after an intense day of work. It was as if every muscle in his body were strained from intense use. The worst part was that he couldn’t see.

Well, he could see, just not _well._ It wasn’t any different than normal, but Peter swore that he’d fallen asleep with his glasses on. Aunt May might’ve taken them off his face while he slept, considering Yaamon’s lack of ability to do so, but a quick and incautious jab around on his bedside table proved that they weren’t there. Thinking that they fell off at some point, Peter groaned and flung his arm over his eyes to mentally prepare himself to get out of bed and search the floor blind.

Which was when his forearm hit his glasses, which only made him more confused.

Face screwed up in an incredible amount of confusion, Peter pulled them off of his face. Suddenly, the blurriness of his vision cleared. He put them back on his face. The blurriness came back. He took them off. The process repeated itself until Peter assured himself that, yes, the vision problems that made him wear glasses since he was five had suddenly fixed themselves overnight.

Standing up was no problem. His legs held no trace of the post-sickness wobbly feeling that happened even after such a twenty-four-hour virus. The problem came when he went to open his bedroom door. His hand, his normal, fourteen-year-old _human_ hand, crushed the doorknob like it was tinfoil, with a sound that was a mix between a _creak_ of old wood about to snap and a very solid _crunch_ of breaking it into a thousand splinters.

In shock, Peter stared, still clutching onto the doorknob which now held an imprint of his hand. And stared. And stared. And stared. Peter stared, trying to make this make sense for far longer than he did with his newfound perfect vision. Finally, Peter gave up.

“ _MAY!”_

“ _No.”_ Aunt May told her nephew for what had to be the thirtieth time that hour as he tried to unstick his hand from yet another random surface in their apartment. From somewhere on the counter behind her, she could hear Yaamon cackle as Peter, who finally freed his hand, fell on the floor from the sheer amount of effort he put in to do so. Again.

“But Aunt May! I have superpowers now!” Peter protested, using the same line of logic, _again._ “I _have_ to!”

“What you _have_ to do is figure out how to stop sticking to my counter so you can go back to school tomorrow morning.” As Peter let out a loud groan, May decided to try a different tactic. “Didn’t all of you Digi-kids agree not to do exactly what you’re asking me permission to do?”

“Digimon only deal with digital problems, yeah,” Peter said, holding his hands in the air to avoid getting them stuck on anything else as he moved to sit down on a stool. Propping himself up on his elbows, he continued, “But _I’m_ human, and _this_ isn’t a digital thing, which means its fair game. I’d get everybody’s opinion if I wasn’t afraid I’d break my communicator, but I’m pretty sure the consensus would be a solid ‘ _Go for it.’_.”

“That’s just the thing, this _isn’t_ a digital problem. It would be _you_ out there, fighting and getting hurt!” Aunt May slowly put down the egg in her hand before she accidentally cracked it in frustration.

Peter scowled, his enter face screwing up in irritation. “Aunt May, in a battle with bad Digimon, it wouldn’t just be Yaamon fighting. I would be at risk too. That’s why we’re called _partners.”_ Peter’s tone was a mix of indignation and pride. “But as Digidestined, that’s what Yaamon and I are meant to do. Fight bad Digimon, protect the Digital World, deal with the digital problems that may come up around the real world. As Digidestined, we couldn’t help people like Mr. Delmar when his bodega got held up, we couldn’t stop the serial mugger that took police four months to track down, and we couldn’t do _anything_ to _help save Uncle Ben_!”

Tears ran down Peter’s cheeks, but he didn’t feel them. Any thought of making breakfast was abandoned by his Aunt as she ran to his side to envelope him in a bone-crushing hug. Faintly, he could feel Yaamon’s soft fur brushing against the side of his arm, in his own attempt at comfort.

Peter pressed on. “But as me, with these powers, I can help those people. _I_ can stop bad _people_ , too. Yeah, maybe this is something I’ll have to do without Yaamon, but I still have to do it.” _Great power, great responsibility._

He felt Aunt May’s full-body sigh, then saw her soft smile, eyes marked with both an old weariness he knew well and a brand-new sorrow he’d gotten used to in recent months. “Since this is coming from the kid who hid trips to another world from me and your Uncle for an entire year, I don’t think I could talk you out of it if I tried.”

Peter smiled half-heartedly.

“But, Peter Benjamin Parker, I swear on all that is holy,” His Aunt said. Peter didn’t know whether to focus her slightly scowling face, or the fact that his elbows had at some point gotten stuck to the counter. “There will be _rules._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon**  
>  **Meramon**  
>  Meramon is a humanoid Digimon whose body is made entirely of flames. A particular Meramon lives in the Mihirashi Mountain on File Island, near the Yokomon village. He lives in peace with the Yokomon, protects the village, and guards their water supply. In general, Meramon can be easily provoked, and tend to shoot with their flames first.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which actual plot begins. 
> 
> Also, I started school back up, and while this story will never be abandoned (I love it too much to do that) the chapters will probably be erratic. I will try my best to post at least once a month until the end, which should be possible right now because I spent the last month getting ahead.

The Rules.

There were only a few Peter had to follow in relation to his new gig as a teenage superhero, but Aunt May was a very strict woman when it came to Peter’s safety. If any one of them was broken, then he was grounded, the suit would be taken for a week, and he’d be put on probation. Any more infractions during that time and Peter wouldn’t see the suit for another month and probation would be extended. Aunt May made it very clear that, under no circumstances, there _would not_ be a third time.

Peter couldn’t let his grades slip, because being a superhero was not a valid career choice.

Anytime he was hurt, no matter how badly, whether or not he thought he could deal with it himself, or even if it healed by the time he got home, he needed to tell Aunt May as soon as possible.

Even though Yaamon wouldn’t be able to come with him when he went out as Spider-Man, Peter needed to have his Digivice and communicator on him at all times, just in case of emergency.

If Spider-Man began to drag Peter too far away from normal life, Aunt May would confiscate the suit and only return it at her discretion.

The last rule was similar to one Aunt May and Uncle Ben made when they first learned about Yaamon. Aunt May was worried that the journals Peter filled with knowledge of another world were dragging him a bit too far from this one, especially considering he had no friends close by once Mimi left. Then, he started to tell them about his friends all around the world. Once they started getting packages at their home (several Chosen Children were incredibly ecstatic that they could mail things directly to Peter’s home) from places as far as Russia that were personalized gifts, they stopped worrying as much.

Aside from Aunt May’s rules, Peter followed a few rules of his own. The costume (which he made all by himself) included everything a real superhero like him needed. It had his logo of a black spider, one he and Yaamon spent a long time arguing over until Aunt May just said, “Spider, Peter. You stick to walls.” His mask covered his _entire_ face, and he made sure the edges slipped under the neck of the hoodie he wore so it wouldn’t fall off easily. Not that it mattered, seeing as the fabric liked to stick to his face. Once he realized that he was now much more sensitive to everything, light included, Peter made some makeshift goggles out of broken camera lenses he found at the local pawn store.

Somehow, it only took a month for another American Digidestined to ask Peter if the new vigilante spotted around Queens was him or not. Peter, on principal, shot a message back saying that he was a superhero, not a vigilante, and then very quickly realized he could not keep a secret to save his life. After begging over a hundred and fifty kids from around the world through a game of telephone to _not_ tell the world that he was now a superhero, he had to field questions about his powers (spider-powers, _duh_ ), what being a superhero was like (so far, exactly like helping out Digimon in the Digital World with their various problems, except he was helping out people and no one knew who he really was), whether he had met any Avengers (no, despite living in the same city), and why he wore such a lame costume (Peter suspected Mimi put them up to this, as it was an organized attack on color scheme, fabric choice, and fit).

For the next month, Peter saw a solid mix of encouraging words, debates on which Avenger he would beat in a fight (Peter didn’t know and didn’t _want_ to know) and the occasional joking dig at him. When some kid’s cellphone footage of him got uploaded online, the general consensus seemed to be that the synthetic webs were totally cool, the spider theme might not be so bad, and oh my God, was he okay? (That last one was, once again, mostly Mimi).

It was a relatively peaceful night when Peter was neither Spider-Man-ing nor performing Chosen Child duties when the absolute worst happened; the emergency signal went off. Something was happening in the Digital World, and Izzy wanted everyone to stay alert. More importantly, he wanted everyone who could get through at the moment to do so in order to check out what might be going on.

Peter shot his Aunt a glance. She returned with a solemn nod, and, after grabbing hold of Yaamon, ran off to his laptop like someone lit a fire under him. Immediately after passing through the Gate, Peter pulled out his communicator in order to get further instructions beyond ‘ _check things out’_.

“Yo, Petey?” Impmon asked, tugging at Peter’s jacket sleeve.

_Wait, jacket?_

Peter took a second to look down at his clothes. Instead of the loungewear he had been wearing only a moment ago, the t-shirt and shorts, he was now wearing a jacket that was eerily similar to the one he used in his Spider-Man costume, except instead of a red hoodie with the sleeves cut off and blue shirt underneath to make the color scheme, it was just one item. His jeans were deep red, and he was now wearing brand-new converse sneakers. 

“This is weird,” Peter muttered to himself, picking at one of the strings on the hoodie.

“I think we should be more worried about _where the heck we are!”_ Impmon yelled, once again pulling on Peter’s sleeve to get his attention.

Finally, Peter looked up, then around. None of it looked familiar. They definitely hadn’t been here before and for good reason. Peter knew exactly where they ended up, and it wasn’t a really fun place.

“How did we end up on _Infinity Mountain_ of all places?” Peter whined before starting to send an S.O.S out to anyone who might be in the Digital World. He still needed to do his job, but there was no way he was going to climb down this mountain on foot. “I didn’t even know there was a Gate here.” Rather than listen to him complain like a nice partner, Impmon wandered off into the interior of the nearby cave. Peter threw his head back and groaned, stomping after him in order to keep the rookie out of trouble.

When Peter entered the dimly light cave, he found Impmon standing and staring at a mark carved out of the wall. The mark was a series of geometric shapes, circles, half-circles, and triangles, overlapping each other to form a mark Peter’s never seen before in any of the ruins Izzy’s dragged him to over the years. Just like Impmon, he was mesmerized by it. All he needed to do was reach out, touch it, _grab it_ …

Before he knew what he was doing, his fingers brushed against the wall of the cave, and for a third time in his life, that bright, blinding light struck, only this time it was the most intense he’d ever experienced. It took several minutes of blinking to get the dots to disappear from his eyes, but when they did, a small, deep navy-blue color object that would fit perfectly within the slot in his Tag was in his hand, bearing the same symbol as the wall.

Peter found his Crest.

Prophecies are fickle things. Prophecies in languages from another world are worse. Prophecies in languages from another world where over half of said prophecy has been turned to rubble or weathered beyond readability are nearly impossible to interpret.

So, when Peter found his Crest and the ruins from two years prior were pushed to the forefront of his mind once again, he was mildly surprised that Izzy was able to glean anything at all. Large chunks, _important_ chunks, were missing, despite his numerous attempts at reconstructing the broken and missing symbols over the years, but at least they had something. Out of context phrases like ‘ _Hazard the Fallen One’_ and _‘To cull the Rotten Roots’_ were the only ones that made sense, even as nonsensical as they sounded.

After a conference call with some of the more experienced Digidestined, several of whom Peter had never met before, it became clear that no one could make heads or tails of what they did have. Whatever would happen next, they would have no real forewarning.

“Try not to dwell on it,” Mimi told him before she hung up. “Things will work out in the end.”

The world’s Digidestined were not removed from high alert. Everyone was told to stay on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Peter, who had been using any extra hours he had in his busy schedule to go out as Spider-Man during the late evening when more criminals were active, switched that time to checks on the Digital World. If anything were to start, it would be there. One night, due to the strange weather patterns and time cycles, he forgot to come back until nearly two in the morning on a school night. Aunt May was, understandably, very angry with him. Ned was, wonderfully, very understanding when Peter told him he stayed up too late to talk to a penpal and watched his back while he slept at lunch.

Four times, false alarms were sounded by overeager Digidestined in other countries, and four times Peter prepared ways to tell his Aunt he was going to have to leave right away, and probably wouldn’t be back for a while before this new fight was over. Each time it checked out as false, Peter was more relieved than annoyed, but would never call anyone out for crying wolf. He’d rather have a million false alarms than miss the real deal.

As Peter dealt with this privately, everyone dealt with the news of what happened with Sokovia publicly, and many chose to blame the Avengers. Peter, having missed all of the news coverage _again_ due to a Digital crisis, kept his mouth shut until he could read some articles or something, but it seemed like everyone, neighbors, teachers, and classmates, even some of the Digidestined, wanted to talk about it.

Some people said that it would be way worse if the Avengers hadn’t gotten there in time, like world-ending stuff. Some people, mostly those who lived closer to Sokovia, said that it was probably their fault in the first place, that this was far too much power for one group of people, and they should be disbanded. When the Digidestined who called for the Avengers to quit called superheroes menaces, they made sure to tell Peter he was ‘not like them’. He didn’t know whether that was supposed to be a good thing or not.

So, considering the massive stress from an impending attack that he had no clue of knowing when or where it would come from, and the constant debate all of his conversations turned to, Peter should’ve been forgiven for not recognizing the man sitting on the couch with his Aunt May that afternoon.

He only noticed him when Yaamon didn’t relax the second he shut the front door. Peter looked around and saw the stranger and Aunt May looking at him. “Oh my God, are you on a _date_?” He said, choosing to ignore the new man completely. “Should I go? I should go.” He pointed to his room, hoping to be able to make a hasty exit.

“No, Peter, no,” Aunt May assured him, smiling awkwardly. “This is _Tony Stark_ ,” Peter’s mouth quickly formed and ‘O’ shape as his eyes widened into saucers. “And he’s here to talk to you about an internship.”

“But I-“ Peter began, but was quickly cut off by Tony.

“Hows about we talk in your room, kiddo? I’ve already told your aunt all about it, don’t worry,” The man said, grabbing Peter by his bicep and dragging him into his room. Peter could feel Yaamon shake slightly in anger, a movement that could be put off as Peter’s arm moving due to the treatment, but he still discretely pat the Digimon to let him know he needed to stop.

Tony closed the door behind them. Peter continued with what he tried to say in the living room. “Mr. Stark, I didn’t apply for any internship.”

Tony looked Peter up and down, his eyes catching on Yaamon for a split second, then continued to roam around the room. “Go ahead and sit down, kid.” Peter slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, unsure of what exactly was happening. “Did you bring that thing to school with you?”

Peter, a little confused about the change in topic but silently assuring himself it was some weird get-to-know-you thing, nodded. “Always do.”

“Weird hobby. Kind of creepy looking, isn’t it?” Tony said. Peter once again felt Yaamon bristle in his hands at the insult. Peter closed his eyes for a second, knowing only one thing would really keep him calm for the rest of this, but it would also destroy his reputation with his scientific idol forever.

“I think he’s cool.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. Whether it was at the personification of the ‘stuffed animal’ from a fourteen-year-old, nearly fifteen-year-old, boy, or at him calling Yaamon ‘cool’, Peter really couldn’t tell. He continued roaming the room. Finally, he made it to Peter’s closet, and not so subtly opened the door before poking at the ceiling with an empty hanger.

“Didn’t mean to offend,” Tony said, eyes flicking from ceiling to Peter. “Though, it is the kind of cute-creepy, kind of like a… spider.” A little sullen at not finding anything at the top of the closet, Tony gave up and continued to search the room visually. Peter hummed in understanding, finally connecting the dots.

“Are you looking for my suit?” He asked, not all that upset that Tony Stark had found out his secret. After all, if over a hundred kids across six continents could keep it tightly under wraps, surely a man with the world’s greatest tech arsenal who was bound to find out someday could too.

Tony, however, looked both incredibly pleased with himself and overly interested. “Your suit?”

“I didn’t sign up for any internship, and now you’re very obviously snooping around my room while attempting small talk,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m Spider-Man, somehow. If you’re looking for my suit, my Aunt took it to wash it.”

“Your… aunt,” Tony repeated. “Your aunt… knows?”

“Duh.”

“Your aunt allows you to be a _vigilante crime fighter_ at the age of _fourteen_.”

“We have rules and stuff. For safety,” Peter said. “Since you came up with the internship thing to try and catch me, do you need something? If so, you’ll have to run it by May.”

Tony pressed his fingers into his temples. “I think I need a drink.”

Since missing school wasn’t _technically_ against The Rules, Peter was allowed to go to Germany to fight the rogue Avengers, so long as he got all of his homework done while he was away. That meant that, along with himself, his normal luggage, and his suit, Peter would be bringing his school bag. Peter also threw the laptop he used as a Digital Gate in just in case anything happened while he was away.

While on the plane to Germany, he let Yaamon sit on his lap while he replied to messages. At one point, Happy looked over at him and frowned.

“What’s got you so quiet?” He asked. Peter knew why he was suspicious. On the way from his apartment to the airport, he practically hadn’t shut up, narrating the entire thing quietly to himself. Happy had been very surprised he _wasn’t_ recording anything, but Peter contemplated using the excuse anyway to avoid having the man think he was talking to his stuffed animal. Then again, he’d been explicitly told that he can’t tell anyone about any of this. Which was exactly why he would only be telling everyone in the Chosen Children chatrooms.

Peter pretended to press a random button very purposefully on the communicator, then waved it around. “Game.” He then pretended to press the same button and went back to messaging his friends. Happy never bothered to check, which would probably come back to bite him later.

At the hotel, a case with a new suit sat on Peter’s bed. He looked down at it and frowned. The problem with the new suit was that it lacked pockets. No pockets meant he couldn’t carry his Digidestined gear, and therefore he couldn’t wear it. Peter repackaged the suit and put his old one on. When Happy came to get him, the man thought he simply hadn’t seen the suit on the bed rather than made a conscious decision not to wear it and wouldn’t let Peter leave without changing. Thus, Peter had a difficult decision to make. Luckily, he didn’t have to make it alone.

“Yaamon,” Peter said very quickly. “I’m already here and these people need my help, but if something happens in the Digital World and I don’t know about it…”

Yaamon tilted his entire body in a similar way a dog would tilt its head. “Every other Digidestined on Earth is around to help, y’know? Your scrawny butt can barely build a Yokomon house, let alone save the Digital World. It’s not like they’d need you there anyway.”

Peter snorted, halfway in amusement at Yaamon’s attempt at a pep-talk, halfway in irritation for the same reason. “Like you did any better.”

The highlights of the battle at the airport were stealing Captain America’s shield (Peter cackled like he just successfully pulled off a prank with Yaamon), seeing the world’s coolest prosthetic arm (it didn’t really matter that it was trying to punch him), and taking down some guy that was the size of WarGreymon (thankfully, he packed a lot less punch).

The low points of the battle at the airport were definitely being dragged out of a window by the Falcon’s mini-drone, wiping out before the battle was even over, and seeing friendships crumble before his eyes.

More than a few times during the fight, Peter had the distinct feeling that he shouldn’t have accepted the offer. He’d seen fights like this before, although those had a lot less actual fighting and superpowers and a lot more of yelling and a little bit of crying. Maybe he hadn’t _exactly_ seen a fight like this before, but stuff came close. This issue went much deeper than rogue Avengers needing to be stopped before they do something completely irreversible. Everyone else had some personal stake in it (except for that ant guy, he, like Peter, was just kind of there). It made him a little uncomfortable.

Worse than that, Peter felt that if any of these people truly wanted to take him out of commission, they would. They were well trained as opposed to his strategy of web-and-run, and they even had a few superpowered people on their side that could match him blow for blow. In a real fight against them, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Every attempt to remove him from the fight was just that. They didn’t want him dragged into whatever mess this was, for whatever reason.

Neither feeling felt when he returned to the hotel, relieved to find that nothing important happened while he was gone. They didn’t leave when he abused the fact that Tony Stark paid for his hotel room and told him to order whatever he wanted, then bought a hearty dinner from room service to split with Yaamon. They also didn’t leave when he left for home.

On the plane, Peter immediately pulled out his communicator. There was a point partway through the flight where he considered bringing out his Digivice when they passed where he knew a few of his friends lived, both to check if tracking worked this far up and for something to do other than answer questions about what the Avengers were like up close. When they landed, Peter was too engrossed in trying to find the right way to get several of the slightly older girls to stop asking him questions he _really_ didn’t feel like answering to notice Tony was already sitting in the car Happy lead him to.

“Are you texting someone?”

“Holy snuzzballs!” Peter jumped several inches at the unexpected voice. He looked through the open car door and saw Tony sitting in the backseat, waiting for him to get in with a now incredibly amused expression on his face. Peter carefully closed his communicator and climbed in, sitting Yaamon carefully back on his lap. “Sorry, I didn’t notice you.”

Tony was not deterred by the absence of the device. “Mhm. Who were you talking to that demands all of your brain power?”

“What?” Peter asked, hoping his nervousness came across as confusion. “Oh, no, Mr. Stark. That thing is just, uh, part of this game I play.”

It didn’t seem to be the turn in the conversation Tony expected, which meant it was to Peter’s advantage. If he made it believable enough, Tony wouldn’t look too deeply into it. “That ancient looking thing is a game.”

“Well, yeah, it’s a bit old,” Peter huffed. “But that’s because they sort of… don’t make it anymore.” _Be vague Peter, don’t give too many details. Remember what you told Ned._ “It wasn’t really popular in the first place, since it has multiple parts you have to carry around all the time and stuff. People just didn’t like the hassle.”

That seemed to satisfy Tony, at least for the moment. For the rest of the ride home, Peter continued to sit in silence and tried to hide the increasingly uncomfortable feeling of invading into someone else’s problems. It almost came to a head when Tony left the case with the suit with him.

Once he’d made it to his room and dumped all of his stuff onto his bed, only after confirming with Aunt May that he completed his homework during the trip, Peter set the case upright in his closet and scowled at it. Yaamon, who was now freed of having to sit still for long periods of time, jumped around the room and on furniture with no cares in the world, seemingly oblivious to Peter’s plight until he jumped in front of the young teen and saw his serious face.

“Whats’a matter?” He asked.

Peter huffed. “It’s stupid.”

Yaamon stopped his hopping momentarily in order to look at his partner. “ _You’re_ not stupid, and _you’re_ thinkin’ it, so tell me.”

“It’s just…” The teen’s voice trailed off momentarily before he spoke again, this time quieter. “I really like the suit, but there’s no pockets. I can’t carry around my stuff without them.”

The Digimon paused to think before he gave his version of a shrug. “Just add ‘em.”

“Wow, why didn’t I think of sewing pockets onto a suit that costs, like, a bajillion dollars?” Peter’s face softened as he walked back to his bedroom door. “Can I trade you peanut butter and celery sticks for the safety of my belongings, Sir Bounce-a-Lot?”

Yaamon paused mid-jump, bouncing several times on the hardwood floor before he finally came to rest. He stared at Peter with a glint of hunger in his eyes. “I accept your surrender.”

The two ran to the kitchen laughing, having forgotten all their worries for just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon Mentioned-**  
>  WarGreymon - A dragon Digimon, clad yellow and silver armor made of Chrome Digizoid. His claws are labelled the Dramon Destroyers, and on his back sits the Brave Shield. He stands as tall as a medium-sized building, and has enough strength to blow one away.
> 
> **Places**  
>  Infinity Mountain - The center of File Island, the tallest point on the island, and the lair previous of File's Devimon. Although Infinity Mountain no longer harbors such a ruthless Digimon within its caverns, it is still avoided for the treacherous terrain and even worse memories.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a description of someone being calmed down from a panic attack.

Peter didn’t help out with the whole Germany fiasco to get a reward. And, despite what Tony or his Aunt May said, he didn’t exactly know if the official title of ‘Junior Avenger’ counted as a reward. The arrangement Tony worked out to add a minor onto the roster and keep his identity secret under the amended Sokovian Accords added more work to Peter’s already busy schedule. But only Aunt May knew just how busy he already was, and since she firmly believed that Peter needed to be mentored by “real adults with verifiable experience” in this world-saving business before attempting anything further (on either fronts of his life), he was sort of stuck.

This was how, instead of visiting the Digital World after tending to the neighborhood greenhouse on Friday afternoon, Peter sat off to the side in Tony’s lab, awkwardly waiting for the man to finish checking over his suit during the first of many weekends he’d be spending ‘interning’ with Tony Stark.

The visit was originally supposed to be an introduction to the compound where he would be spending his weekends training, disguised as an internship to anyone curious or named Ned. It quickly turned into a diagnostic for his equipment, prompted by the fact that Tony had noticed some weird data reported through the GPS tracker located in his suit (which prompted Peter to ask what else the man had put in the suit without his knowledge, but that question was promptly ignored). It took less than a minute for the truth and Peter’s makeshift alterations came to light.

“Did you sew that on?” Tony asked incredulously, pointing to the addon of a zip-up pocket that Peter was quite proud of. The tone his superhero mentor took made him rethink the decision.

“It needed a pocket, Mr. Stark! With the whole rehashing the Sokovian Accords thing,” Peter didn’t notice the uncomfortable look that came and went on Tony’s face when he casually mentioned the long political fight that took place over the last two months. “I figured you’d be too busy for such a small problem and took the initiative.” His stomach turned and his face turned a shade paler. “I didn’t… break anything, did I? I swear it worked fine on patrols.”

“I built it to withstand a lot more than a sewing needle,” Tony said. “But if you could refrain from anymore DIY alterations with the suit, that’d be swell.” The man narrowed his eyes slightly, realizing something for the first time. “I assume you can also explain why the GPS in the suit ‘malfunctioned’ and reports like it didn’t move from your apartment for three weeks straight?”

Peter bit his lower lip. “Sort of…?”

The following two-hour conversation solidified the dynamic between the two. Tony, who had previously thought of Peter as a teenaged vigilante who was slightly odd made the conscious decision to simply go with it, whatever it would pop up. Eccentricities, quirks, and weird hobbies aside, Peter was a good kid who wanted to do good things. Even if he was a little (a lot) stupid sometimes. Peter, who somehow talked around the real reason why he couldn’t go out in a suit without pockets for two hours, was equally mortified and ecstatic. Mortified that a man that he’d looked up to since he was small, that he’d read about in articles, that he wanted to be one day (in more ways than one, now) saw him awkwardly explain why he’d been unable to use a suit that he loved.

Because it didn’t have pockets.

Ecstatic that a man he’d looked up to since he was small, that he’d read about in articles, that he wanted to be one day saw him awkwardly explain why he’d been unable to use a suit that he loved.

For two hours.

The second time Peter visited the Avengers compound for his ‘internship’, he was meant to stay longer than the time it took to take a tour of the building. His entire extended weekend, four days originally intended to be split between working in the neighborhood greenhouse, hanging out with Ned, and being conned into babysitting for Elecmon while Mimi had her monthly tea with the Digimon was now set to be spent doing whatever it was Avengers-in-training did. With the awkward weight of his dufflebag forcing him to lean a little to the left while he walked, the cool-yet-warm feeling of his (still inactive) Crest hidden beneath his shirt, and a tight grip on Yaamon, Peter nervously followed the minimal directions that supposedly led him to the room he’d be sleeping in whenever he was here.

The door slid shut behind him with a satisfying click. Yaamon jumped out of his hands and onto the bed where Peter placed his bag. He shifted all of the items around and pulled out an old laptop and a mass of different wires, kept from tangling by well-placed zip-ties, from the bottom. Any attempt to properly set it up stopped when FRIDAY spoke to him.

“Boss didn’t say you were bringing a pet.” The blood drained from his face. Peter looked up at the ceiling while Yaamon glanced around, looking for the person who the voice belonged to. Thirty minutes. They’d been there thirty minutes. He really was the world’s worst secret keeper. “For some reason, my scans are unable to identify its species.”

Peter swallowed his rising anxiety. FRIDAY was an AI, a Digital Being. Sure, she wasn’t a Digimon per se, but he knew from both the time Ned tried to code a basic AI and the experiences of Digidestined who took a few advanced coding classes (for, you know, reasons) that AI sometimes just decided to become a little more sentient when anything Digimon related became involved. Usually, the process took weeks or months of exposure, not seconds, but this situation could get hairy quickly and FRIDAY was already pretty complex.

In short, the world presented a very thin life-line, and Peter held on for dear life. “FRIDAY, can you keep a secret?”

The silence that followed his question terrified Peter. The answer only slightly relieved him of his fear.

“If no one asks, or if no one is in direct danger, then I won’t share what you tell me with the others.”

Peter turned back to Yaamon, then nodded. Yaamon rolled his eyes, obviously still peeved about being called a pet by the lady speaking through the ceiling. “My name is Yaamon. I’m a Digimon, and Petey here is my partner.” The furball puffed his cheeks out with the same pride he always did when he said the word partner. “And we’re gonna give ya a crash course on the Digital World.”

At first, staying at the compound on his off days wasn’t the worst thing in the world. If he had ever gone to a boot-camp in order to have the experience to compare it to, then he’d probably say it was something like that. Get up, eat, train, eat, train, have some downtime, eat, sleep. What the ‘training’ consisted of shifted from session to session, depending, Peter guessed, on who wanted to be saddled with a fourteen-year-old they didn’t know for a couple of hours. He wasn’t too offended, considering the fact that they were teaching him at all.

Having no real formal training, Peter’s primary teachers, the ones who kept showing up the most (which, apparently, were going to consist of Black Widow and Captain America) were trying to see how up to snuff he was in the basics by way of tests of his powers in general, his marksmanship with his webs, and some sparring.

The answer; not at all up to snuff.

Dodging, on the other hand, was his specialty. From way back in his days as a message runner, village re-builder, and all-around thorn in the side of the (now ex-)Digimon Emperor, both Peter and Impmon knew how to dodge the trickiest of blows. Even rookies knew how to pack a nasty punch, especially for humans, and one knock-out by a Digimon wearing a Dark Ring meant the worst fate for his partner. It was a skill Peter was proud of.

But here, on the training floor, he could see the hidden disappointment. Spider-Man: sloppy punches but can run away great.

Beyond the training room, there seemed to be a general discomfort whenever more than one Avenger gathered. Peter knew this sort of awkward dance from his Digidestined days as well. After Ken was knocked back into his senses and joined the other Chosen Children in helping rather than hurting the Digimon, it took a while for him to stop feeling guilty. It seemed similar enough, but the awkwardness surrounding the Avengers whenever they were too idle seemed just different enough that Peter felt he was missing too many pieces of the puzzle to know what exactly was going on.

He really should’ve paid more attention to the briefing on the way to Germany.

Peter also noticed something he had chalked up to a mix of nerves and excitement while in Germany. He was, for some unknown reason, terrified of Vision. Something about the hero caused an instinct to rise to the surface in both Peter and Yaamon. Whenever he was near Peter something told him how dangerous it was to be in the vicinity. His stomach dropped, Yaamon’s fur rose, and the two left as soon as humanly possible.

The sighing whenever he attempted to throw a proper punch and once again got the form wrong again, Peter could deal with. He never expected to actually hit anyone, even as Spider-Man, he was made to be fast and wily in order to web them up. The weird atmosphere that he didn’t have any context for, Peter could ignore. It wasn’t any of his business, really, and it was probably something they had to work out themselves. If he was meant to know, he already would. Avoiding Vision and whatever terrifyingly destructive power the seemingly nice man hid wasn’t easy, but it was doable. That didn’t mean he had to like any of it. 

So, Peter avoided the common areas and kitchens during the times he knew the others would use them, ate in his room with Yaamon (electing to continue sharing stories about the Digital World with FRIDAY instead, despite the risks), and split his free time between being alone, and hanging out with the only other person he knew for a fact enjoyed talking to him.

“I don’t think anyone likes me,” Peter complained half-heartedly as he replied to messages on his communicator.

“I’m sure your Aunt likes you.”

Peter looked up long enough to glare. “You know what I mean.”

Tony slowed down in his work, having to split his concentration. “From what I’ve been told,” He began slowly, considering his words carefully. “You generally have to talk to someone in order for them to genuinely like you.”

“I know how to make friends, Mr. Stark.”

The older man smirked. “That you do. I’ve never met anyone who talks to FRIDAY more than I do. But,” He whirled around to face the teen. “You can’t be part of a team if you don’t communicate. Trust needs to happen.”

“Then why are you always down here alone?”

Tony’s face faltered. Peter erroneously took this as a win and grinned cheekily at the man staring at him. After a long moment of silence, he shook his head clear, coughed, and avoided the subject in a not-so-subtle way.

“I programmed the espresso machine down here to pour the foam to look like my Iron-Man helmet. Wanna see if we can get it to look like your doll?”

Neither of them slept much that night, although it was for entirely different reasons.

Nothing was there, and there was nothing. A mass of everything that somehow resulted in nothing being there at all. Static so clustered that it just became white, white, white noise. Too white, too loose, too quiet in the vastness of it all. No ground, no reference for what is down, what is up, what is feeling.

_Was there even air to breathe? Did it matter?_

Then, a solitary figure emerged in the vastness. They took a step, and there was the ground, the down, the solid in the empty. It rippled with the weight of their steps, yet still they seemed to have none. Effortless. _Graceful_. The word popped into a mind that suddenly remembered it existed in all the vastness. It looked down with eyes that it knew it had been using to see, yet not to comprehend, and saw its own feet rippling through the ground in a manner all too similar and yet far different from its counterpart. They wore converse sneakers, an odd choice for such a strange place.

The two solitary figures stood opposite each other in a sea of everything and nothing at all.

“Where is this place?” Said the awkward one, struggling between the feeling of floating in air and standing on the ground.

The graceful one smiled an awful, terrible sort of grin and said nothing at all. Instead, it pointed directly behind its companion. Turning through the white everything felt like swimming underneath thick mud. Beyond the nothing, there was a something. A recognizable something, being edged away by the nothing, merged into the everything, becoming one with the static.

With the image of the Server Continent’s desert being dragged into the unknown white abyss of his dream burned into his eyes, Peter shot up in his bed, wide awake.

At the sight of the white ceiling staring back at him, Peter sucked in a shaky, nearly horrified breath. He was almost glad that for the moment the ringing in his ears (why were they ringing?) kept him from hearing his own distress. FRIDAY said something that he just barely caught through the hushed murmurs and vibrations that hit his slightly pounding head. Although his breaths were beginning to calm, his heartbeat was still wild. Rather than try to listen to the AI that was certainly trying to discern what was wrong or wake up his partner who would be incessantly worried in his own way, Peter glanced over to his bedside table, where his Digidestined gear sat.

At this time of night, contacting one of the older, more experienced kids wouldn’t be hard. While here it was early in the morning hours, they were starting their afternoon classes on their side of the world. Like Peter, all of them were too wrapped up in their classes at any particular time to miss an important message and all of them had set excuses to leave when needed. The only thing stopping him was the idea that the alarm hadn’t already sounded.

Izzy was the one who sounded the alarm, who sent everyone into emergency mode. Izzy had programs, monitoring systems, contingency plans in place for when things went wrong. If something was happening, he would know. Everyone would know. It wouldn’t come to Peter in some dream. A nightmare.

But what if what was all happening outside of Izzy’s parameters? If all of the carefully constructed monitor systems, built by the older teen with the supervision of Gennai himself couldn’t identify this new threat. If those false alarms weren’t so false after all, just blips of something bigger, edging closer, closer, closer to breaking through to the real world.

Biting his lip to keep the nausea that came from nowhere at bay, Peter’s mind raced in a dozen different directions. The rational mind tried to keep him in a solid direction, both weighing the facts of ‘ _Four false alarms in a row_ ’, ‘ _not every security system is perfect’_ , and ‘ _Get it together, it was a dream’_ as well as making a plan on how to best contact the rest of the Chosen Children with his suspicions, or even _if_ he should. The rest of Peter’s mind, a far larger part at this point, was preoccupied with pure panic at what it could entail.

(The destruction of both worlds, if they couldn’t stop what was happening.)

A shadow appeared in the corner of his eye and Peter jumped backward, hitting his head against the wall. For a moment, he was eleven and a half again, taking a break in the middle of some dark forest on the Server Continent that was on the edge of territory controlled by the Digimon Emperor.

Then the shadow spoke, and it was very distinctly a human that Peter, age eleven and a half, did not know, and the strange spell broke. “FRIDAY, can you turn on the lights? Dim, please,” Tony said.

The shadow, as it turned out, had been two people standing in an awkward formation in his doorway. Tony stood fully inside, with Steve, looking like he rushed from halfway across the compound, standing half-in, half-out with a strangely pained expression on his face as he looked down at Peter sitting on the bed.

“Peter, can you hear me?” Tony asked, his voice smooth and calm in a way Peter hadn’t heard before. “You’re in the Avenger’s compound. You’re sitting in your room, sitting your bed. It’s,” He paused, then glanced away and back. “2:34 A.M.”

Fully expecting a ‘ _Jesus, kid,’_ , but not receiving one, Peter furrowed his brows. Tony took this the completely wrong way, bit his lip in concern, then did the unimaginable. He turned and asked Steve Rogers, Captain America, to enter the room and help.

“Peter?” Steve asked, sliding past Tony with a foot-wide berth. “Eyes on me, kid. I’m going to need you to breathe in time with my count.”

“That’s for when someone has a panic attack,” Peter muttered, and the reaction seemed to allow Tony’s shoulders to relax a minute amount. “Aside from all of you being in my room at nearly three in the morning, I’m fine.”

“Your vitals say otherwise,” Tony said. Even his usual hint of better-than-you sort of smugness that always tinged his voice had left and been replaced with a sprinkle of worry. “FRIDAY alerts for those kinds of things. You set her off. Up to explaining what’s still keeping your heart-rate up?”

“Just some dream.”

“Peter is under the impression that his dream has given a glimpse into the cause of an end of times level event, which, if allowed to occur, would destroy at least two parallel worlds, including ours,” FRIDAY said, all the while Peter glared at the ceiling. “You mutter when you think too much, Peter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **People**  
>  Gennai - A guide of sorts for the Digidestined. While his outer form may change, he is still the same person on the inside. In addition, there can be multiple versions of him across the Digital plain at once, allowing him to offer guidance to multiple Digidestined at once.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one final left but I'm sneaking away from working on my project to post this.

The Nightmare Incident, as the morning version of Peter decided to refer to that all-around dreadful night, marked the beginning of the end in more ways than one. 

FRIDAY’s outburst the night before about the dream that had forced Peter into such a panic didn’t bring on a slew of questions like he’d expected. Oddly enough, whenever Peter thought back to the look on Tony’s face, the man looked like he _knew_ what was going on with the teen. Something that Peter once would’ve considered improbable, if not impossible, but considering how easily FRIDAY blabbed on him despite promises to the contrary, he’d have to give the AI a stern talking to in order to find out if his mentor does _know._ He kept the questions and talk to normal subjects and far from Peter’s surreal, apocalyptic dream, and made sure to cut off any talk from Steve that seemed like it was going in that direction. Once Peter’s vitals were as calm as his outward appearance, both men left so that all three could get some well-needed sleep.

Not that Peter actually got any. The rest of the night he spent lying in bed, staring up into the darkness where the ceiling supposedly was, contemplating the hand life gave him and what cards he was supposed to be playing. Right about now, it felt like someone just tossed down a royal flush and took the whole pot while Peter still thought they were playing Uno.

He ignored every alarm that told him to _wake up and get up_ , considering he was already very much awake and he felt like getting out of bed sometime next year. He fully ignored FRIDAY’s attempts to cajole him out of bed with descriptions of what was being made for breakfast, instead of turning over and reaching under the bed to grab at the ever-dwindling supply of hidden snack foods he left for Yaamon during training sessions. 

The second he flipped back on to his back, incredibly unhealthy bags of food in hand, he was met with worried green eyes staring at him, softened enough from their ever-present glare that anyone would be able to tell a difference. In an attempt to avoid the inevitable for as long as possible, Peter opened one of the bags and offered it to his partner.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a Digimon refuse food,” He said, trying for a lighthearted tone. It was ruined by the fact that there were bags under his eyes from a night without sleep and an obvious strain to his voice. “When did you wake up?”

“Bit past when you did,” Yaamon answered. “Kept my eyes shut when those guys came in. Then you had a funny look. Aunt May used to tell me to give y’some time when y’get all up in your head.” He scooted forward on the bed, pushing the bag of food out of the way as his frown deepened. “You’ve had enough time, right?”

After all this time, his partner still managed to shock him sometimes. He blinked his thoughts away and tried to stay focused on the now. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve had enough time. I already sent a message to Izzy about last night. Maybe I should send one to Mimi, she tends to get back faster. I just- I need to talk to _somebody,_ even if it’s nothing. I should probably just ask to head home so we can talk to everyone, tell May about it. This might be a bit bigger than having Black Widow tell me how bad I am at throwing a punch. I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t a normal dream.” He stared down at his hands for a long moment and was only brought out of his thoughts by a soft tap against his side. Flicking his eyes over to Yaamon, he saw the Digimon pulling back from an incredibly soft headbutt. He returned the gesture by ruffling the fur on top of his head and turned to the ceiling with a small grimace. “FRIDAY, where’s Mr. Stark right now?”

“The Boss is currently in the hangar. He and several other members of the team are waiting for you to arrive,” FRIDAY responded in a slightly ruffled tone.

Straightening himself into a sitting position and nearly rolling Yaamon off of the bed, Peter racked his brain for why _anyone_ would be waiting for him the hangar, let alone several members of the Avengers. Not willing to let his imagination run wild, he decided to ask the all-knowing AI attached to both the building and Tony’s personal schedule.

“They are waiting for you to arrive in order to begin a team exercise. The exercise was meant to begin immediately after breakfast, which most of the compound’s occupants attended,” FRIDAY said. “In fact, the alarms I set for you this morning were for just that purpose.”

Peter was so incredibly indignant at the nonchalant way that she told him he was late to a team exercise that he had no recollection of being told about (at least, not until he was halfway through pulling on his suit and he remembered it being yelled at him a few times as he ran out of training), that he nearly forgot he still wanted to have a talk with her about how friends don’t blab secrets about each other to people not in the know. Although the utter and complete panic from last night had subsided, it wasn’t far enough from his mind for him not to take time to put his Crest on underneath his suit, shove his Digidestined gear in his self-made pockets, and scoop Yaamon up on his way out of the room.

By the time Peter made it to the hangar, he was too out of breath to apologize to any of the half-dozen or so people waiting next to the quinjet, some he hadn’t met before. As he slid to a stop in front of the menagerie, FRIDAY took over the introduction for him and announced that he was ‘finally here’. Peter held back the glare he desperately wanted to throw the AI if only for the fact that he could feel the stares of several pairs of eyes flick down to where Yaamon sat in his arms. Curling inward to protect his partner against the stares felt much more comfortable, much _safer_ , than being defiant towards the digital entity in the ceiling right now.

A sharp clap cut into the short silence. “Alright!” Tony shouted, making himself the center of attention. He waved his arms towards the open hold of the quinjet. “All aboard!” He stood aside to let everyone pass, and when Peter, who had taken up a position a few feet behind everyone else, was passing by, he held out an arm in front of the teen.

“Short talk, I promise.” He said, making sure to lower his voice. “I know you might need that right now, but you’ll have to leave it on the plane when we land.” For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the man mistook one of Peter’s looks for something else. “Nothing bad will happen to it, I _promise_.”

Internally shaking himself loose, Peter looked at the man in front of him and nodded. “I believe you.”

Tony looked like a weight had been lifted. “Good.” He removed his arm from in front of Peter. “Now, go on.”

As he walked up the ramp to find a seat, keeping his eyes downcast to avoid the odd looks in everyone’s eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder if that was part of the _knowing_ look from the night before.

“So, it’s like capture the flag?” Peter asked. They were about five minutes from landing. The destination was the middle of a forest entirely owned by Tony, surrounded by land entirely owned by Tony. The land had been purchased at the same time the building for the compound had and due to the sheer size of it (and other factors taking his attention away) it took longer for him to set up proper security at the perimeter. Said security was both for those inside, and for anyone who happened to be wandering around outside the perimeter.

Peter spent most of the short ride there pressed to the wall, as close to the front of the quinjet (and as far from Vision) as possible. The man flying the jet seemed to have a permanent grimace on his face, at least for the moment, but when Peter took a second look it reminded him more of Yaamon and his ever-angry eyes. Unable to get the comparison between the man with the bow on his back ( _Hawkeye_ , his mind supplied) and his partner out of his head, Peter tried to distract himself with the other unknown occupant.

Sam Wilson, he found, was far too easy to talk to, considering his current nervous disposition. The man had an air about him that screamed ‘ _I’m here if you need me!_ ’ The open, honest feeling he got from the man reminded him too much of Mimi, and it shocked him a bit how open he was being after they’d just met (even if it wasn’t anything of importance).

Sam shook his hand back and forth in the universal gesture of _so-so_. “Not exactly. After splitting up into a couple random teams, one side will get an object to guard and get to a specific point, while the others will have to nab it and neutralize them before they can deliver it.” Sam hummed to himself. “I guess it’s a little like capture the flag.”

“And the teams are completely random?” Peter asked, his eyes flicking over to Vision for less than a second.

Sam smiled. “We’re mostly out here to rebuild unity and all that. Wouldn’t be fair if we were all picking sides.” Although he didn’t say it, the unspoken implication of _again_ was there.

During the lull in conversation, Peter noticed Sam’s eyes flick down towards Yaamon for the umpteenth time in the flight. Peter turned his head away and leaned back, deciding not to pick it back up.

The landing was smooth enough that Peter only registered that it happened through the front window of the quinjet showing a lower altitude and the back ramp opening to free its human cargo. From what he could see, they were in a clearing with easily thirty to fourty feet before hitting the tree line on either side. The forest itself was lush and healthy, the trunks getting wider the deeper they went, and many of them tall enough for him to swing on or jump from. He let everyone go ahead of him and calmly placed Yaamon in his seat, whispering a soft goodbye before heading off. By the time he stepped off the ramp, Tony was already reading off a list of who would team up with who.

“Clint and Wanda, Natasha and Vision, Peter and Sam, and finally,” Tony scowled for a second before the look disappeared. “Me and Steve. Clint and Wanda, you two are on retrieval. Your job is to take the others down and take what they’re carrying. _No_ unnecessary damage. Everyone else,” He looked around at the pairs that had now shuffled around to stand next to each other. “We’ll be carrying these,” He held up a small, cylindrical-shaped item and rotated it around, showing several glowing bands across the surface. “To one of several set locations in the forest. They’re important messages, and you _need_ to see to it that they’re delivered. It’ll transmit GPS data to your gear once you’ve picked it up. Choose your own route, method of travel, etcetera, etcetera. Just get there with both you and it intact and you’ll be good.” He began passing them out. Peter grabbed it with both hands and clutched it close to his chest, wishing for a moment that he had the satchel he used when running messages in the Digital World. “We get a one-minute head start.”

"Pretty sure we agreed on two minutes,” Steve said, the glance he tossed towards Peter not going unnoticed. _I’ll be fine,_ Peter thought, his blood boiling, _I’ve been doing this for years._

“Alright. One minute to confer, one for a headstart,” Tony corrected. He set a timer with two different alarms. “Starting… now.”

Sam wrapped an arm around his partner’s shoulders and led him off to the side where they were less likely to be overheard. “You good, kid?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Peter hissed, his hands wanting to flex with his irritation. But they couldn’t, the message was more important. What was in it, he wondered? “Who will we be leaving behind?”

“Excuse me?”

“If we get caught, who will we be leaving behind and who goes ahead?” Peter repeated, clarifying his question. That’s why the Digidestined traveled in pairs when message running, after all. The faster of the two would leave to complete the assignment and come back for their fallen companion. “Oh, it’s a stupid question. You go on ahead, you can fly. I can probably hold them off for a while, but make sure you come back fast enough, alright?”

Sam was silent for a few too many precious seconds. When he spoke, his voice was much harsher than it was on the quinjet. “I’m not going to leave you behind, Peter.”

“I mean, you’d probably last longer if you stayed behind to fight. I’m fast enough that you wouldn’t have to, though.” Peter said. He unzipped his pocket and slipped the cylinder inside.

"No, Peter, I meant-“

A shrill alarm sounded through the clearing, ending all conversation. At the direction of Tony, the pairs were off into the woods on their pseudo-mission, and Clint and Wanda were told that an alarm on the quinjet would alert them when they come after the others.

Peter and Sam were still close enough to the clearing when the second alarm rang that they could hear it. The man’s red wings and high flight were suddenly a hindrance, an alert to their enemies as to where exactly they were in the thick forest. On the apex of one of his short swings, Peter waved to the man to come down. It took a moment for him to register the meaning of the hand gestures Peter gave him, but the second he did, he lowered himself below the treeline to keep out of sight. If the edges of the wings weren’t as sharp as they were, Peter would’ve worried for the machines.

Peter glanced at the GPS location that was now being displayed inside his mask (something which he’d never get used to). Their goal appeared to be a lake, nearly ten miles away. Fortunately, one of the shorter distances Peter had traveled for a delivery, but, unfortunately, they were being chased the entire way. He felt the cylinder jostling inside his pocket with his Digidestined gear as he entered a particularly low swing and adjusted. He hoped that it wouldn’t have to come to him running ahead without Sam, despite the gut feeling he had. The man seemed put off towards the usual messenger tactic.

A high-pitched whistling sound brought Peter back out of his musings. A loud _thunk!_ sounded out on a tree behind him just as he passed it, and a wordless shout came from Sam above. He saw a shadow move around him and felt the air shift behind him as Sam dove sharply to avoid an oncoming branch, missing it by inches as another _weeooo, thunk!_ struck just above and to the right of Peter. This time he caught a glimpse of the arrow shaft as he continued into his next swing, not daring to slow his pace. The third whistle sounded as Peter shifted his swing to the other arm. This time the loud _thunk!_ of the arrow lodging itself into the tree trunk timed itself near perfectly with groan Peter let loose as his back hit the forest floor.

Disoriented and lying on his back, Peter wanted nothing more than to just lie there until someone came and got him. Mimi and Palmon once saved him from a similar predicament, but that involved more climbing trees rather than swinging and was a lot more Peter’s fault than Hawkeye shooting at him with arrows. As he tried to turn over and pick himself up off the ground, the scrapes along his back from the branches he’d hit on the way and the roots his back hit lying down protested vehemently.

The next sound he heard sent a shockwave of self-preservation through him. The clashing of metal on metal was never a good sign, in Peter’s experience. In one corner of his mind, the one unaffected by the hits he just took and not fueled by his current rush of adrenaline, he understood that the sound was most likely Sam’s wings deflecting some of Clint’s arrows (or trying to, the man had trick shots and those things could get stuck up in the inner workings). However, the Digidestined in him knew several Digimon with armor, had seen them all fight and wanted to be nowhere near anything that required those big guns to be pulled out, especially not when he was in the middle of a run and partner-less.

Without a single glance back at his second, Peter hopped to his feet and ran off into the woods, hoping he was still headed somewhat in the right direction. The blood rushing to his ears as he ran, webs entirely forgotten, blocked out any sounds of battle that were behind him. As soon as it was safe, he’d check his course, but he needed to make sure that no matter what, the message would make it.

_Deliver message, come back to help._

"You are running?” Someone asked from far too close, making Peter trip over a tree root. He flung his hands out to catch himself, but before he could hit the ground something else caught him. Something red and _unnatural_ curled around him, first at his feet and then the rest of him, something made every instinct scream to _get away, run away, this isn’t something you can beat._ He tamped it down as best he could and tried not to show it on his face, just like he did when faced with Vision. He was lifted upright and into the air by the red, just a few inches off of the ground, whirled around to face Wanda. “You left Sam to fight alone.”

Seeing that the statement was really a question, and now this woman’s silence was her waiting for an answer, Peter gulped and managed to stutter out, “Messenger t-tactics. One f-fights, a-and one runs.”

“Ah.” She nodded as if in understanding. “So, you are a coward, then?”

Peter curled his lips back in what he thought was an imitation of Yaamon’s most threatening snarl. “Don’t you _dare_ call me that!”

“You are the one who runs,” She said, barely acknowledging the rage of the boy in front of her. “You do not fight with your comrade. You’ve left him to the wolves, so to speak. How are you anything more?” She leaned her head into her hand and looked at him with a more than a touch of disdain and just a hint of curiosity. “I’ve seen the way you look at Vision. You try to hide it, but now you look at me with such a similar fear. I wonder,” She asked, her voice trailing off as she reached forward to press her hand against his forehead. “What could a naïve little boy like you be so afraid of?”

Peter felt a soft touch brush against his head and recoiled, shutting his eyes. He didn’t want anymore of the red to work its way around him. This red felt different. With it came a fog that overtook Peter’s mind until nothing but the ground and the red were present.

When Peter opened his eyes he was on the ground, face down. He pushed himself up and off the ground, leaning back against his calves as he got his bearings. Looking around at the forest, the greenery around him, he felt like he was truly seeing it for the first time since he’d stepped foot into it. But what he was seeing was entirely impossible. He turned around in as much of a circle as his position would let him, letting his eyes wander around and wondering just when he’d gotten there. Even more importantly, _how_ he’d gotten there. After all, opening a Digiport required a working computer with some kind of internet connection.

This particular forest was one that used to be deep within Digimon Emperor territory. Peter and Impmon spent an extended amount of time traversing the area, finding the routes with the best hiding spots and where the strongest Digimon under the control of the Dark Rings were kept (know thy enemy, and all that). Even now, Peter wouldn’t step foot in the forest without _at least_ Impmon trailing along right behind him at every step, let alone another Digidestined to travel with. There were far too many bad memories.

“Impmon?” Peter called out into the woods. No answer. “Yaamon?” Peter tried, hoping his partner hadn’t De-Digivolved while he was passed out on the ground. When still no answer came, he tugged at his hair and bit his bottom lip to prevent panic from emerging. “Don’t worry, you both know this place. Just have to meet up at the Gate.”

At the sound of scraping metal, Peter whipped his head around to see the bushes rustling. He immediately stood and began to back away from whatever was coming. The Digimon in this area weren't always overly friendly, even after being saved from the control of the Dark Rings and Dark Spirals. “Who’s there?”

A figure Peter was glad to see dressed in clothes he wished he would never see again pushed himself out from the bushes rather violently, muttering under his breath. Ken Ichijouji, dressed once again as the dreaded Digimon Emperor, stood before Peter with a snarl on his lips as he regarded the teen before him.

“K-Ken?” Peter asked, his voice barely audible. “Why are you-“

_CRACK._

The whip that Ken- no, that the _Digimon Emperor_ always held at his side suddenly struck the ground next to Peter, the resulting sound deafening him. Involuntarily Peter flinched and took a step backwards. The moment that the snarl turned into a sickening smile at his reaction was the moment Peter realized that this was not the kind, caring Ken he’d come to know. The teen in front of him was, _somehow_ , the cruel, misguided Digimon Emperor.

“You’re trespassing,” The other boy said, waving his hands out towards the forest in a grand gesture. His smile widened a fraction yet still refused to meet his eyes. “But I am merciful. Hand over the message, and I’ll allow you to leave and never return.”

Peter resisted the urge to let his hand fly to the pocket where the message currently hid. Squeezing his eyes shut, he forced himself to think, to sort his mind. The Ken he knew would never put that outfit on again, for any reason, let alone act like that unless he was being coerced or controlled. The Ken he knew would also be accompanied by his partner Digimon, Wormmon, no matter what happened. The two were inseparable, more so than any other partner pair, including him and Yaamon were.

On the subject of Yaamon, or rather Impmon, his partner being missing was suspicious. If the Digimon Emperor was _here_ , and his partner had been taken (even the passing thought of this was enough to spike Peter’s anxiety, and so he quickly shuttered the idea away), then Impmon would also be here so the teen could gloat. If not, then why would his partner not be here with him? What could be so important that they’d separate in the Digital World?

Images came rushing back to him, fast enough that he felt the need to hold onto his head for support. The start of the training exercise, his web being cut, leaving Sam behind, being caught by Wanda. Red. Red. _Red._ The last thing he remembered was red. When was that? They’d left this morning. It was evening now, the trees made everything dark. Was that part of the illusion? He looked back to the Digimon Emperor standing in front of him, the realization coming full circle as he realized the boy had stood still through his entire freak out.

“You’re not real,” Peter half-whispered to the false-Ken in front of him. “You’re just a bad memory now.”

“Maybe,” The Emperor said. “But that isn’t.” He pointed to the line of trees, where a white mist had formed.

Compelled by some unknown force, Peter walked toward it, realizing that it wasn’t a _mist_ , and the white wasn’t in the air. The white was empty, a nothing, the abyss where things had been erased and taken, removed and deconstructed, currently floating away as if nothing were more normal. Trees and plants and ground, the very empty area that made up the air that nothing normally stood in had become the Digital-less abyss. As it encroached on Peter’s feet, he shuffled backwards as far as he could while keeping the white _nothing_ within eyesight.

“No.” His voice was louder, clearer than he thought it would be. “ _No_. None of this is real. Wanda- she has mind powers; she must’ve done something. Took stuff from my head and made illusions, _something_. _You’re lying to me_!”

“How can I be lying if I’m from your head, Peter?” The false-Ken asked, not bothering to even look up at Peter. His expression shifted, looking between himself and the ever-growing white abyss. “Are you so afraid of little Ken Ichijouji that you’d put him equal to the world coming apart, Peter? I wonder, does he know that you hate him?”

The whiplash of the change in conversation drug an answer of out Peter. “I don’t hate him.”

“What was that? Couldn’t hear you.”

“I don’t hate _him_ , I hate _you!_ ” Peter yelled. “ _You’re_ the one that attacked me and my friends, _you’re_ the one that destroyed everything and didn’t care, _you’re_ the one that had no concept of life and _killed_ living, breathing creatures _because you could._ Ken is _nothing_ like you!”

“Ken _is_ me.” The false-Ken lifted his glasses and revealed the spitting image of the face Peter knew as one of his friends. “It’s just an _outfit change_ , Peter. How do you know he’s not the one hiding this from Izzy? He has the access. He’s got the intelligence. You’ve thought of it before, haven’t you? There was a reason it took so long for anyone to trust him.”

“He earned everyone’s trust,” Peter spat back at the illusion. “Especially after…” He gulped. This subject was entirely taboo, the death of a partner. Even if they did return, no one spoke about the event or the time in-between. Some Digidestined weren’t so lucky as to get their partner back.

"After Wormmon died for him?” The false-Ken nearly crooned with victory. With every word, he walked closer and closer into Peter’s space, forcing the other teen away. “That’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it? It took the death of his partner, the one being that never left his side no matter what he did, to stop all his atrocities. Even then, I wonder what happened when he realized Wormmon couldn’t really _die_.”

" _Stop it!_ ” Peter shouted. “ _How dare you, you sick piece of-“_ When his foot caught in something that felt entirely unlike any other _thing,_ Peter cut off with a yelp. When he looked down and saw the white abyss, grappling at his feet rippling and deconstructing, partially reconstructing only to deconstruct yet again, he couldn’t help the terrified scream that fell past his lips. As he struggled to remove his foot from the utterly terrifying _nothing_ that he’d been caught in, he reached out for the illusion of Ken Ichijouji, hoping that the boy had at least enough humanity to save him from being erased from existence.

“Why, Peter,” The boy ( _illusion_ ) said as Peter desperately tried anything to escape. “If none of this is real, then why are you so afraid?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Digimon**  
>  **Wormmon**  
>  A green worm Digimon whose main attack is Sticky Net. He is a very timid Digimon and often has trouble sticking up for himself. Wormmon is also Ken Ichijouji's partner Digimon. During Ken's tenure as the Digimon Emperor, Wormmon stuck by him no matter what. Even after he was defeated and forced to reconfigure at the Primary Village, Wormmon forgave his partner for his actions and sought to help him return to the kind boy he once was.


	9. Chapter 9

Peter’s journey home was unpleasant to say the least. After an uncomfortable ride back to the compound in a tension filled quinjet, then a quick trip to the infirmary to look him over that resulted in way too much fussing over the few scrapes and bruises he had, Peter finally got to _say_ that he wanted to go home. As in, right then.

Apparently, no one was prepared for that outcome. No one was ready for a teenager forced to relive trauma (because, really, what else could Peter call _that_ ) wanting to spend the aftermath in a _comforting environment._ So, when Peter left to go pack his things, there was still that resounding silence that seemed like judgement.

_Coward._

When he arrived at the front with his stuff, fully expecting to see Happy waiting to take him home, he saw Tony standing there instead. The older man had decided that _he_ was going to drive Peter all the way home. For once, Peter did not feel up to the casual, blunt conversation or the loud rock music his mentor offered.

They arrived at Peter’s apartment at a time when May was, thankfully, also there. All Peter had to do was knock, and the door was opened to him. She blinked a few times before letting both of them in, watching as Peter, usually so neat, dropped his things where he stood and beelined to his bedroom. She followed in order to garner an explanation.

When she came back out, closing the door firmly behind her, Tony was still standing awkwardly in the middle of their living room, for the first time feeling completely at unease in the home. May frowned at him, then pointed to the kitchen stools.

“He told me the gist of what happened,” May said, placing a glass of water in front of Tony who gladly took the distraction for what it was. “So, you don’t have to do that. I would like to know _why_ it happened.”

Tony grimaced. “Peter told me a while ago,” He started. “That none of the others at the compound like him. I joked that it was because he doesn’t spend any time with anyone. Only ever spends time with me and FRIDAY. So, I started asking FRIDAY to keep an eye on him more, for me. I know a lot more than he’d probably like me to about his eccentricities, but she doesn’t tell me anything sensitive.”

“The pertinent information here is that Peter is afraid of Vision. Causes an actual, physical reaction that he cannot control, one that tells him to avoid him, get as far away as possible. So, he just avoids everywhere Vision is, which is pretty much all the common areas. Wanda, having similar energy to Vision, causes a similar reaction, but they can be in the same room without Peter wanting to jump ship.”

“Wanda, like literally every other person in the compound, noticed this, but didn’t know the why of the situation. When she cornered Peter in the forest during the exercise, she tried to skim his mind for the reason behind the fear. Since it’s instinctual, there’s not really a conscious _reason_ , so she threw in too much power searching and tossed Peter into a hallucinatory state. Or at lead that’s our running theory.” Tony swirled the water in his glass. “Since she didn’t know what she did, exactly, it took her a bit to undo it. I’m not sure what it will be, but there will be consequences for her. And that’s what I know.”

May hummed and stared down at her own glass, running her finger along the rim.

“May, what do you know about Ken?”

“What?” Her head whipped around faster than should be humanly possible, her eyes narrowed in on Tony to study him better. “What did Peter tell you about him?

“Peter hasn’t _told me_ anything. That’s why I’m asking you.” Tony noted the way she relaxed and glanced back at the bedroom door that Peter was now safely behind. “Look, May, I know that Peter has been through a lot. My offer to help doesn’t _just_ include the suit and teaching him how to throw a punch. We can get him some counseling, but I _need_ to know what I’m working with here.”

Tony witnessed a war happen in May’s mind between telling him anything more or just leaving it at that, questions with no answers, ever. He could tell which side had won even before she opened her mouth.

“That’s Peter’s decision.”

The single question cut Tony like a knife.

_Thank you for the offer, but I don’t trust you._

He stood up abruptly and readied himself to leave. “Well, whatever he decides, the offer will remain open.” Without waiting for the answer he knew he wouldn’t receive, Tony left the apartment.

The world’s heaviest textbook slammed into the desk Peter Parker had fallen asleep on, landing a mere two inches from where his head used to be. It was only due to quick reflexes and his nifty, newly coined Spidey-sense that Peter was both semi-awake and off the desk just before the weight landed, and just in time to start grabbing his now displaced materials and wayward Digital friend, who had been able to hide his small flinch as a roll off the desk and into Peter’s lap.

As the teen leaned down to pick up a pencil that had actually rolled onto the ground, he saw his teacher pick up the textbook out of the corner of his eye. The book in question was a math textbook, and the teacher in question was the math teacher, Ms. Hopkins. Rangy, never in what one could describe as a ‘good’ mood, and a solid half a foot taller than Peter, Ms. Hopkins’ class was not pleasant when both of them were having a good day. Peter didn’t see a need to participate, his only friend not being in the class and the class itself not being much of a challenge (it was just _math_ ). Ms. Hopkins referred to that as an ‘attitude’.

Today, Peter was not having a good day, and with the resting scowl not nearly hidden behind her wire-framed glasses, his mind didn’t have to work too hard to guess she wasn’t either.

“I’ve been lenient due to your circumstances, Mr. Parker, but I _will not_ allow sleeping in my classroom.”

“I wasn’t asleep,” He protested a bit weakly.

“Oh?” She asked, the corners of her mouth just barely twitching upward, almost as if she forcibly held back the smile at the _absurdness,_ the _audacity._ “Then, you would know what question I posed to the class a moment ago.” This time the smile came, mocking.

“I can’t.” Peter ground his teeth together to avoid doing something worse.

“Don’t be modest!” A flash of teeth from her. An eye twitch from him. A dance, seeing which one would snap first. “With your grades, I _know_ you can answer it correctly. Come on, up to the board.”

“I can’t answer it,” Peter said, hunching in on himself. Everyone was _looking at him_. Making mental notes of the confrontation between Peter, the reclusive weird kid with the doll that the teachers tended to tip-toe around for reasons no one knew and Ms. Hopkins, who seemed to finally have enough of walking on eggshells.

“Because you were sleeping.” The teacher finished for him, her tone allowing no more arguments. “You’re old enough to know that lying, especially such an obvious one, only hurts you…” Peter sighed internally and waited to be handed his detention slip. Detention wasn’t _too_ bad; it was just that he had far more important things to _do._ And if it was with the gym teacher, he could usually just… leave after the man started watching sports replays on his phone and he wouldn’t notice.

“He’s not lying,” The girl in the desk next to him spoke up, momentarily pausing her doodling beside her notes. The unexpected interruption cut off Ms. Hopkins before she had the chance to write up a slip and dragged Peter out of his own head. He racked his brain for her name and a reason why she would intervene on his behalf. Ned was, quite literally, the only friend he had that still lived in New York, and he was not popular at school. At all.

The girl, ( _Michelle,_ Peter remembered in the middle of one of her sentences), continued. “He wasn’t paying attention, sure, but he wasn’t sleeping. Peter’s cramming last minute for the Academic Decathlon tryouts. They’re this afternoon. If you give him detention, he won’t be able to make it, and the team will probably lose VIP before he had a chance to join.”

Peter might not have been as quick on the uptake, especially when it came to Michelle and her genius manipulation of a lonely high-school math teacher, but even being the loner he was, he knew a enough facts and enough rumors, after the fact, understand how she’d gotten him off the hook. Fact, the Academic Decathlon was a popular school team, given Midtown’s emphasis on academics, and needed fresh members after most of the members either graduated or moved away from New York, which was now being dubbed a ‘hot-zone’ in the news. Fact, the team’s faculty advisor was Mr. Harrington, a young, slightly awkward science teacher that had repeatedly told Peter that he should join the team and was constantly giving him study materials for the tryouts. Peter never had the heart to outright tell him no, but he certainly didn’t actually study for the tryouts.

Rumor had it that Ms. Hopkins had a _thing_ for Mr. Harrington. Rumor had it that Mr. Harrington was a little too obsessed with getting the Academic Decathlon team to win nationals, _just once_.

As Peter walked out of second period, still trying to work out how Michelle knew exactly what to say so fast, he felt her brush past him and heard her mutter, “See you nerds at tryouts.”

The confused look on his face only cleared up when he turned to see Ned waving at him from the door of the next classroom over.

“What you’re saying is impossible. Have you checked twice?”

“Of course I checked twice,” Tony ground out, frustrated less by Natasha and more by the situation. “Something the kid has on him corrupts FRI’s surveillance system in real-time, because I _know_ no one’s messed with them after. I just don’t know the how or why. We already know his real name, face, and what he does on weekends,” Tony tossed his tablet haphazardly on the table in front of him, allowing the team members who were in the room to see what he’d been trying to figure out since coming back from the Parker residence.

Peter Parker clearly wasn’t ready to trust him with whatever was bothering him to the point of panic-inducing nightmares and terrifying hallucinations in the forest. Maybe a fear so intense that it forced Wanda’s powers to manifest itself would be best left to someone with a better hold on their own situation. But Tony Stark was never known for just letting things go, _especially_ not when it meant someone he cared about could get hurt. Was being hurt.

Tony sighed and accepted a bowl of spaghetti from Steve, who then proceeded to pass bowls around the table. The only good thing to come out of the past few days was a tentative cease-fire between the two on any hostilities. When FRIDAY called Steve to help Peter with the nightmare, a claim she believed was due to the teen’s enhanced abilities and not for any ulterior motives, the other man had been acting differently both towards and over the two of them. The disastrous team exercise only added to that. Whether he felt sympathetic, pity, or guilty for having ignored the kid up until that point, Tony didn’t care. They weren’t fighting anymore, and he had bigger things to focus on.

“Audio is entirely cut off in his room, sometimes when he isn’t even there. I know there’s no video in those, but FRIDAY records logs of our conversations with her, right?” Natasha continued after Tony nodded. “It’s the doll, or at least in the doll. He leaves the doll in his room for training and whenever he’s not eating in the common room or with you. He brought it on the quinjet. Check the logs.”

It took only a moment to pull up the records in question and verify that they were also corrupted.

"Where’d he get that thing anyway?” Steve asked as he sat down with his own lunch.

Tony leaned back in his chair and began to rattle off everything he knew about Peter’s ‘companion’. “Had it since he was ten. You’ll see it in every photo of him since. He’s carried it around literally everywhere since his uncle, uh, died.” A short, uncomfortable silence fell. “Anyway, the kid acts like it’s alive. I highly doubt he’d be the one to tear it open and put a jammer in it.”

Clint, who had dragged the tablet over for a closer look, hummed in agreement. “Because he didn’t. The electrical interference is part of an anomaly SHIELD used to keep track of. That thing _is_ the jammer.”

“Are you sure you really want me to try out for Academic Decathlon with you?” Ned asked. He paused, but not for an answer. “Are you sure you really want to try out for Academic Decathlon?”

“For the thousandth time in the last _hour_ , Ned, _yes_. Well, no.” Peter frowned. Why did life have to be so complicated?

Michelle slid into the space right across from them, making their lunch table seem just a bit less empty. “Not chickening out on me already, are you? You owe me Parker.”

“ _Owe_ you?” Ned raised an eyebrow in her direction, in his direction, and then in everyone’s general direction. “What did you do? What did she do? What did you _do?”_

“She helped me get out of a detention,” Peter mumbled, stuffing what had to be three-day-old peas into his mouth as he internally cursed himself for being too drained to pack a lunch this morning. After downing the peas, Peter forcefully softened his expression, hoping the grimace from the taste and embarrassment from remembering second period didn’t show through at all, and said, “Thank you, Michelle.”

“You can thank me by actually showing up to tryouts. Both of you, but especially _you_ , Parker. I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be a VIP.” Michelle grabbed the bowl of peaches from her tray and the bowl of peas from Peter’s and swapped them. Before he could get a word of protest in, she devoured the rest of the peas, and began to work on her own lunch. “Eat your peaches, Parker. And call me MJ. Only my mom and teachers call me Michelle.”

“Only if you stop calling me Parker.”

Michelle- _no_ , MJ smiled. “Deal, Petey.”

For once, one of the comedy of errors in Peter’s life was leading to a normal teenage situation. Ignore the Digimon he held in one arm and the phone with Tony Stark’s number tucked in his backpack, and he was just another teenager being dragged by his friends to tryouts.

And _friends_. Plural, multiple, _more than one friend_. Even if it was just to get him on the Academic Decathlon team (which, Peter had now found out, she was already on through the last round of tryouts), MJ had his back. She wanted to hang around the weird kid with the doll.

Peter just wished that she’d acknowledge that Yaamon was there.

Ned held open the doors to the old band room where practices were usually held, and tryouts were currently being held. Peter walked inside, followed closely behind by MJ and Ned, and froze after seeing who else was already inside the room.

" _Parker_?” Flash Thompson sneered from the plastic chair he had sprawled into. Mr. Harrington hadn’t arrived from his classroom yet. “What are you doing here?”

MJ crossed her arms. “Peter and Ned are here to try out.”

Flash snorted. “What? Is his little dolly gonna press the button for him?”

“No,” MJ said, a sharp smile growing on her face. “You will.”

The popular teen jumped out of the chair, toppling it over behind him. “What did you say, you little-“

The entire room shook, knocking Flash off of his feet, and through the sliver of a window on the door, Peter swore he saw a blast of fire. Lights flashed in the room, and soon after the loudest emergency announcement Peter had ever heard in his life began.

_RNNNNNT! RNNNNNT! EMERGENCY. EMERGENCY. EXIT THE BUILDING._

Peter looked outside the window that led outdoors and saw a thick, white fog had descended around the school while they were making their way to the band room. In his arms, Yaamon tensed, his pupils narrowing slightly as he sniffed the air in that direction. Ignoring the alarm blaring around them, his bully, and his friends, Peter walked to the window and laid his on the unusually hot glass. Pulling his sleeves over his hands, he unlocked the metal latch carefully and looked out.

Only to duck back in immediately, just barely dodging a fireball thrown by Meramon at _something_ in the other direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone needs a distraction from how things are right now, please feel free to talk to me. My Tumblr is very lame because it is new and I don't use it much, but it is @/asterphilnstella

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  **Featured Digimon:**  
>  **Kiimon -**  
>  A Fresh level Digimon, and the Digimon that originally hatches from the egg. As a Fresh level, Kiimon can't attack, and isn't generally good for much other than eating until he evolves into the next level.  
>  **Yaamon -**  
>  Yaamon is an in-training Digimon. Yaamon has one attack, called 'Rolling Black', where it shoots a ball of darkness at its opponent. However strong this may seem against humans, this is weak against other Digimon, considering its level. 
> 
> **The Digivice -**  
>  The small blue device that arrives with Kiimon allows the user to transfer their energy to their Digital Partner in order to allow easy and non-permanent digivolution. This energy is usually positive, emotional energy.


End file.
